Outlander: The Standing Stones
by martykate
Summary: Irina's an archaeologist visiting Scotland to study the Neolithic monuments outside Inverness. has a strange dream before she visits the site, a vision of stones, mist, darkness, the sound of voices. She falls asleep in the shadow of the stones and wakens to find her dream has come true. Jamie Frazer is on the run & Irina helps him escape by sacrificing herself to his pursuers
1. A Potent Magic

**Chapter 1: A Potent Magic**

This story was conceived, oh, years ago when I first read "Outlander." I never wrote it down, I think, or if I did, I didn't save it. Some of the elements are different, I am sure.

I wanted a story that wasn't Jamie-centric. My original story didn't have him in it at all, but I want to have Diana Gabaldon's characters make their appearance in the story, showing up as essential elements. Hope you enjoy, this is a bit different, but it really is for "Outlander", trust me.

Thanks to Jamie Frazer that we are alive at all—and I found Malcolm McDonald.

And the little one I'm carrying, he'll, and I'm convinced "he" is a boy, will look like Mac. He'll have his father's brown hair and brown eyes of, his height and his build. This child that will not carry the spectre of a tragedy. This little one will be born into happiness, no tragedy, no sorrow, will shadow his birth. And I have the promise of His Majesty's government that the land where we dwell will be ours in perpetuity, even if we have to pledge allegiance to the king. It's a small price to pay.

Ah, who am I? A good question. I am Irina Bogdashevskaya Campbell MacDonald, wife to Malcolm MacDonald, the man who helped me stand up to Colin Campbell and saved my life. Before that I was Colin Campbell's captive, who murdered my husband for his title—and me. And before that I was the wife of George Arthur Allen Davison Campbell. My Georgie, my sweet loving boy, my love, my heart, lost all too soon, murdered by the cousin he loved and trusted.

And before that? Well, now it starts to sound like an "Outlander" plagiarism, but it's not, it's real. Russians believe in all sorts of crazy stuff, and they are the only ones who know that it's true. I didn't believe that you could bend time, find yourself in one place then suddenly another. My father would say that it was the fairies, and who knows? Maybe he'd be right, but something that I don't understand happened to me, and it's still happening, but now it's my life.

I was an Egyptologist who taught at the University of Chicago. Of course I considered my area the most interesting and fertile in the ancient history field, but I try to be open minded. I've helped excavate in South America, and in Europe. Ancient Britain was not civilized like Rome or Egypt, but there's a lot to see and explore.

I'd come on a trip to Scotland to visit some friends of my recently-deceased mother, to fulfill a promise I'd made to her. I'm this crazy mixture of Russian and Belgian, tall like my mother, blond with weird grey-green eyes like my father. Wolf's eyes he called them. I'm broad hipped like a good babushka, but it's in proportion to everything else. I also have a broad Slavic face and high cheekbones. I guess you could say I'm good looking but I don't pay attention to it.

Okay, that's not true, I'm beautiful and I know it, but it doesn't do me any credit. To be beautiful is a curse; to not be beautiful is a curse. I'd rather look the way I do than not, but I'd like to be free of the baggage it carries. Sure, we may reap some benefits that our less fortunate sisters do not, but we pay for it. I haven't much good to say about my alcoholic, abusive father, but he helped me put things in perspective. My sisters and I are all equally lovely, but we are kind, humble, and unselfish. Beauty is no more than an accident of genetics, but the world can be unkind.

Since I was going to visit Scotland, I decided to drive around England first, and visit as many Neolithic monuments like Stonehenge that I could. Included in this were trips to old castles and Roman baths, camps, and of course, Hadrian's Wall. When I'd finished gorging myself on ancient history, I headed up to Scotland, to Inverness, which really is a lovely town—my cousins recommended that I stop there on the way.

I rented a room in a bed and breakfast run by an old Scottish woman who spoke with a burr so thick that often I could not understand her. The beds were excellent, though, and the food very good though not what an American like me is used to. The old hag, as I unkindly refer to her, would pack me a huge lunch every day, and send me out with a thermos of tea as I went sightseeing. Despite the fact that she looked like an old crone, she was very sweet, fretted about how thin I was—which I'm not, and kept mentioning various sons and nephews and neighborhood boys that she wanted to introduce me to.

She did manage one, Malcolm MacDonald, tall, brown haired, brown eyes, and very good looking I must confess. He was also very sweet, referred to my hostess as Mrs. Struan, and fascinated me with his knowledge of the history of the area. I'd sworn off men after my breakup with Robbie, I was in no mood to plunge into another disastrous relationship. Mac, as he called himself, seemed to sense this, but I also got the feeling he wasn't going to be deterred. I rather liked the feeling I was being pursued by a tall, handsome stranger.

"Mac" was turning into a frequent guest for dinner, I did not yet know if I minded. Mrs. Struan would delicately suggest that we might want to adjourn to the parlor and have a drink or two to help us digest our food. I would ask him about any menhir or dolmen around that were within walking distance. I told him about my interest in ancient history. I'd already visited Stonehenge and Hadrian's Wall before I'd come here. I'd planned to visit the Orkneys before I headed back to England. I must admit, I'd been prepared to be bored and uninterested in Scotland, but it was proving fascinating and I wished I'd allowed myself more time for my trip.

It turned out there was an interesting dolmen, and even a menhir within walking distance. Being a gentleman, Malcolm offered to take me, but I wanted to experience this on my own. My theory is that unless you need to have questions answered at that moment, it's best to see something you really want to see alone. I want to be alone, to take it in, to explore it on my terms, without someone hovering over me, thinking that they know what I want. And not everyone shares my interest in ancient monuments.

So I very politely turned him down and got very detailed directions instead. I'd have Mrs. Struan pack a lunch for me, and bring the cameras I carry when I take pictures. People generally stare when they see me take snapshots with one camera, then go in for detailed photos with another. If they think I'm crazy, it works to my advantage—they leave me alone. That's another reason why I don't want Malcolm with me, he'd get bored waiting for me to finish, and maybe try to hurry me to convince me to return to Mrs. Struan's.

I made polite goodnights to Malcolm and Mrs. S. I hadn't had much time to explore the area around Stonehenge, but tomorrow I would get to see some of what I'd missed. I looked at the map Malcolm had drawn for me. Trust a fellow archaeologist to include everything available to see in the area. Kent Weeks would be impressed, and he only mapped the Valley of the Kings.

It looks like the dolmen once was the entrance to a tomb mound. The menhir is some distance off. Malcolm's drawn a sketch of the menhir, and it resembles one of the stones of Stenness, as opposed to the rectangular shape of the outer stone circle at Stone Henge. I examine the map more closely and discover another tomb, with the lintels missing, but some of the structure is intact. I hope I'm going to find more, maybe a cyst grave, maybe even remains of a circle, or perhaps post holes of a "wood henge."

I didn't sleep as much as I should have, considering how much walking I would do, Mac had told me that the menhir and dolmen had only been briefly explored and recorded. Amateur archaeologists discover things all the time. I was trained, and had the basic equipment for measuring, if someone had been there with me, I could have set up a plumb line and taken measurements. It didn't matter what I did or didn't find, I would probably be alone, have the whole site to myself. I was as excited as I used to be when I went to bed on Christmas Eve—and slept about as well.

Towards the morning I started having strange dreams. The air had become filled with a mist, as if in a fairy tale. I heard the sound of hoof beats, and saw the shadowy figures of men on horseback. I heard voices speaking English, but I couldn't understand the words. All I knew was that I did not want them to discover me, because if they did, my golden day would be spoiled, and I'd never have the chance to explore the site again.

And then, one of them got off his horse and started walking towards me. I wanted to run, but it was as if the earth had swallowed my feet, and I couldn't move, I was trapped, and all I could was to wait helplessly as he began to approach me.

I woke up to the dim light of the early dawn. I pulled on my wool robe and checked my backpack one more time to see if there was something I missed. Satisfied that I could survive for a week if I could only add food to the contents, I took a quick shower, then went to the dining room to eat breakfast.

The Blessed Mrs. Struan had fixed me a large plate of eggs, with kippers, which I can't stand. I settled for the eggs and bannocks, washed down with her strong tea. My hostess had even come up with some orange juice, which, by its taste must have come from a can, but I was grateful for it all the same. I had a long day ahead of me, and except for the kippers, I was going to put whatever nutrition in my body that I could get hands on.

She presented me with a fat lunch bag, and a thermos full of tea, reminding me that I should be back for supper, as Mr. Malcolm would surely be present, and wouldn't I like a ride to the path that led to the standing stones.

I smiled, shook my head and thanked her. I went back to my room and placed my bundle into my overstuffed backpack. Fortunately, as I consumed food and tea the weight would lesson somewhat. I put on my fleece lined denim jacket and wrapped my new red scarf around my neck—the morning was cold but the day might warm up a little, later. I hoisted my pack onto my shoulders and went quietly out the door to prevent someone from offering me a ride. I felt like walking in solitary bliss this morning.

My bliss did not last long. An elderly couple pulled up next to me as I walked along the road, and rolling down their window, inquired as to whether or not I needed a ride. It was only a couple of miles to the turnoff, but I gave in graciously and answered questions as patiently as I could.

I was from Chicago. I was an archaeologist by profession. No, I wasn't married, nor was I engaged. (I don't know why this people always ask this question) Yes, I liked being an archeologist. I worked mainly in Egypt, but was on vacation and exploring Neolithic stone monuments while I was here. I was staying at "The Thistle", yes Mrs. Struan set an excellent table. Oh, my name? I'm half Russian and half Belgian, but I was raised in Seattle. They let me off at the turn off, wishing me a lovely time. I wished the same to them and watched them drive away.

The path bore few marks from the most recent excavation. It must have been wide enough for a narrow vehicle once, and I tried to remember how long it was, but I didn't really care. I was getting that crazy high that I always got on the way to an excavation. The hair was prickling on the back of my neck and I could feel the electricity on the surface of my skin.

Something was going to happen.

The path was taking me slowly uphill. Nothing I saw around me hinted at my being a couple of miles away from an important archaeological site. The path looked as if it had not been disturbed for years, no trace remained that a four wheeled vehicle had once been here. The path was no bigger than a footpath, the evergreen trees were tall and had not been cut in centuries, it seemed. The air was fragrant and clean, and had an almost unearthly stillness. Not even the sound of birds pervaded the stillness, and I felt like the first line of "Evangeline" by Longfellow:

"This is the forest primeval"

At last I passed through a small stand of trees and set foot into the clearing, and what I saw took my breath away. The first thing that caught my eye was the menhir, it was taller than I had imagined it, standing at least 16 feet high. It looked like it had been sheared off at an angle at the top, while it was cut straight at the sides, and did not owe its shape to nature's whim or the weather.

I looked more closely at its surface, trying to see if it was smoothed on one side, while left rough on the other like the Sarcen stones at Stone Henge. I was too superstitious, no, too respectful to touch it, but to my delight I found that one side had carvings of spirals on it, not the first time I'd seen this on stones and monuments in both Britain and France.

I pulled out my Nikon and began to take pictures. When I had some shots that I was happy with, I started wandering, trying to determine what might have been here originally. A Menhir is a standing stone, or group of stones, like Stonehenge, while a dolmen is a doorway, usually consisting of two vertical stones with a stone across them. These were the doorways of tombs, and a few mounds and barrows have remained, though most of them are gone, leaving only the lintels, or the dolmen. It's exciting if any of the tomb is left, and here I got lucky because there was a noticeable dip in the ground and I could make out a shape.

I took pictures, kept the best and deleted the others, and then I began to walk around. It was an odd place for the dolmen and menhir, usually (though not always) these things were located on a relatively flat plain, probably so they'd be visible for miles. But the size of the dolmen was impressive, and I'm sure that whoever had been buried there had been important. The tomb itself had obviously been looted, but I wonder if anyone ever came up here and had a look around. Malcolm had been knowledgeable, but decidedly uncurious. He'd made no effort to warn me away, not even any warning looks, so I wondered if he just considered it unimportant.

On a whim, I decided to have a closer look, I don't know what I was hoping to find, maybe some more holes where more stones had stood, or maybe something else. There was an energy here that was spurring me on, and the day was young, and I had plenty of time to look around. But for what?

This place was at least four thousand years old, maybe more, and the geology could have been changed considerably in that time. Cleopatra's palace complex and the lighthouse at Alexandria had been struck down by earthquakes. Maybe this hill was once flatter than it is now and an earthquake had changed the landscape so drastically that the hill had been raised up. I'd forgotten a lot of my geology, so I couldn't remember if such a thing could be possible. I know they did have earthquakes in the British Isles, but they were not as frequent as they would have been, say, in Seattle. I'd have to find a library, or preferably, a seismologist to find out if it was possible.

While I was busy meditating on the possibility of earthquakes in the British Isles, my foot suddenly sank in some soft leaves and I tripped. I ran through most of my profanity vocabulary from "a" to "s", then pulled my foot out of the depression it had become trapped in.

Something was curious about this. I carefully began to pull leaves and debris from the hole. Soon hole was deeper than the length of my arm and I still had not reached the bottom. I cleared as much as I could, and noticed that the size was regular and smooth, as if it had once held something—but I did not know what.

"Discovery Fever", as I call it, was taking hold of me. I began to look around for possible postholes, and discovered another two. My excitement grew, there was evidence here of a wooden circle, just like at Stone Henge, that had rotted centuries ago, but no doubt pre-dated the standing stones. I carefully cleared the holes and took pictures. I could not wait to get back to my computer and start recording my findings for the day. If I looked more closely I might find the site of more post holes, or possibly where stones had stood—or even a buried stone.

I looked up at the sun, then down at my watch. Noon! I had lost all track of time. I could spend hours here, and still have more to find, but right now I was feeling suddenly hungry. I went to the menhir and sat at its foot, well away from its shadow. I took my camera and took pictures of each of the little carved spirals, wishing, as so many others, that whoever erected these circles had had some kind of written language. We know so little and so much of what we know is educated guess work.

I devoured my lunch, as opposed to eating it. Rationally I knew that I should be tired, but there was an energy level here, almost a hum, like machinery running, that fed into me and I could not remain still. I searched for more post holes, and found two possibilities, and looked carefully at the grass to see if there were a difference anywhere in color that might indicate where a stone might have stood.

I turned back to the dolmen, and looking around could see where a body might have been placed. The pit where the barrow may have been had smooth sides, and much care had been put into its preparation.

I don't know how much time had passed, but when I looked again at my watch it said three o'clock. How did so much time pass by? I could easily have prolonged my trip here by a week and contemplated the possibility. I'd taken this quarter off to do some traveling, and if I brought back enough notes and images, I might be able to persuade someone to give me a month to dig here. It probably wouldn't be that hard to convince local officials. I had no intention of destroying the site, but clearing the postholes, looking for evidence of more stones, and excavating the tomb under the dolmen would only benefit the village, not harm it.

In the meantime, I had better get ready to leave. Darkness was not falling so terribly early, not yet, but this was an area I didn't know, and it would be best to hike back in full daylight. Once I got to the main road I would surely find myself sufficiently tired enough to graciously accept an offer of a ride back to the bed and breakfast.

I walked over to the menhir to check my pack and make sure I'd left nothing behind—something I'm notorious for. I looked at it again, the smoothed surface decorated with the spirals, and reached out my hand to touch one, but pulled my finger back at the last minute.

suddenly I was feeling very sleepy. "Okay, just a short one," I promised myself and stretched out before the stone, my backpack providing a lumpy pillow for my head. I had no intentions of sleep, only to rest a minute before I began the long hike back to the road. The very long hike back to the road I mused.

I swear, I really didn't think I'd fall asleep, I don't nap, as a rule, but I woke up suddenly realizing that I had been asleep. I looked at my watch, it read three o'clock. Now that couldn't be, there was a new battery in it and it had read three o'clock the last time I looked at it. I looked around, nothing really looked different. The clearing and its dolmen and menhir had a creepy feeling to it, but that's true of a lot of ancient sites—you can feel that you are the intruder; that something was there before you that belongs to it, not you. Maybe the battery was faulty.

Suddenly a mist started to descend while the sky grew curiously darker. Like in my dream, the mist slowly grew thicker as the air darkened. From a distance, I heard the sound of muffled hoof beats and the jingling of bridles. Horses whickered and men were talking, speaking a language I knew but could not understand the worlds.

I ducked behind the stone, and prayed they would not see me.


	2. The Campbells

Chapter 2: In the Thick of Things

My mind was spinning so hard I was almost dizzy. I was trying to breathe as quietly as I could, despite the fact that with the noise of the horses and voices I would not be heard. I wanted to turn and look, see just who was there, but knew I dared not. For better or for worse, I was trapped.

Let's see, what did I know? Well, it was highly unlikely that I would have company here, even less likely that a group of horsemen would descend upon this place. I had this sick feeling in my stomach. That if daylight were to descend and I could take a good look at my surrounds, I would find them drastically changed. How did I know that? I didn't.

But what had happened to my watch? If I could pull out my phone and try to turn it on, what would I find? Blame it on my Russian, as my father used to say, but I know that I know that I know that something has happened. Maybe the stones had taken me, maybe there was a power up here that kept people away, and maybe I had paid the price for my curiosity. And all I could do was sit and listen to the men and their horses that seemed to be paying this place not much attention at all.

My back hurt. I was tired, I was hungry, and I wanted to go back to the inn. I wanted to pull the flask out of my pack and drain it dry, but dared not. I needed to be ready to run at a moment's notice, but where I'd run to? I had no idea.

I learned back against the stone and listened, instead. There seemed to be two English voices, the others Scottish. There were not a lot of people as far as I could tell. To my dismay it seemed that they were getting ready to spend the night. I could hear wood chopping, and that meant they'd probably be building a fire. How dare they? This place was sacred, it had stood for thousands of years, how dare they desecrate it by treating it as no more than a hunting camp.

Like in my dream, I heard footsteps coming towards me. I'd stayed here long enough, it was time to get away—somehow. Maybe to the other side of the clearing. I prayed there would maybe be a tomb and I could duck down in it and hide until they fell asleep. All I could hope for would be that they did not keep sentries and that the horses would not betray me.

As I watched him pass by me, I could see he was dressed in a hunting kilt, which I recognized from a tartan book I had skimmed. Which clan, I could not tell. A few men wore kilts around here, but it was mostly for special occasions. "It's a coincidence, Irina," I told myself, "Just like your watch, your phone probably doesn't work, either, maybe it's due to magnetics or something like that. Just be calm, if you don't be calm, you'll never get away." But to where, a part of me wondered.

My eyes followed him, guessing that he had received the call of nature and was answering. I hope he had the sense not to desecrate anything, but knowing only where I was, not when, I had no idea what he was up to. At least he hadn't seen me.

But someone had, he dropped down in front of me and put his hand over my mouth before I was even aware of him. "Shh, lass," he said in tones so soft I barely hear, "I'm here to help ye." His hair shone silver in the moonlight, but his face was in shadows. "Do you want to be getting out of here?" He didn't remove his hand from my mouth, but he was gentle, and I was not afraid.

I couldn't tell who he was, he was tall, so tall I was surprised that he could conceal himself when the stranger returned to join his camp. I looked at him and nodded my head, letting him know that yes, I did trust him. I was going on my instincts, and prayed they would not betray me. "We've got to move now," he said, "I don't know the best way to go because they've got the entrance blocked. It looks like they may be here for the night, so if you're patient, we may get away when they fall asleep." He took my hand and pulled me up, leading me deeper into the shadows and away from the light of the moon.

"Who are they?" I whispered, aware of how the sound carried eerily here. "What are they doing here? Don't people leave this place alone?" I knew how superstitious Scots tended to be, but that was no less true of Russians, or anyone who had any kind of belief in a spirit world. My Russian grandmother used to take me on her lap and tell me stories of Russian princes and princesses, and Baba Yaga flying through the air in her magic caldron. My Belgian _grandmere_ told me elegant stories of princes on horseback riding into dark forests to find captive princesses and magical kingdoms.

"I am somewhat surprised to find them here, but it's a good place to be if you don't want to be found. They started out as just a hunting party until they stumbled on me, now their prey has changed somewhat. Damn those traitorous Campbells to hell, though I must have become too complacent for them to find me so easily."

"And you're a Jacobite, and that's why they pursued you? What year is this anyway?" I tried to keep my voice down, but I was becoming panicky, and excited.

"That's a strange question, lass, but it's 1744, if you dinna already know." He looked me over carefully, "Those are strange garments for a woman to be wearing, especially one who looks like you."

_At least you didn't use the "b" word, I thought. _"There's more to me than meets the eye, I promise," I answered, "I'm warm, well, fairly warm, and I'm wearing clothes that offer me a lot more freedom and protection than women's clothes would. And I hope we can get away from here, soon, I grow more nervous by the minute."

"Well, I'd have something for that, but my flask is empty."

"Mine's not, and I've been waiting for a chance to get to it." I slid down, carefully, on the ground, and began to search through my pack as quietly as I could until I found the flask. It was too bad that I had consumed all my food, but at least I had my whisky. I uncorked it and took a good, long drink, then handed it to him. Not the best scotch, but it wasn't bad.

He held up the flask to salute me, drank deeply, then handed it back. I drank as deeply as he, and he smiled, impressive for a girl his look said.

He took hold of my hand and led me more deeply into the trees. He slid down a gentle slope and I realized he'd found a tomb that had lost its barrow so long ago that time had forgotten when. We huddled down at the bottom, using each other for warmth and slept fitfully until just the first rays of sun started showing in the East.

"Come on lass," he said, we need to put as many miles as we can between them and us before sunrise. I smiled and shook my head.

"I appreciate your offer of help, but you need to get going. I bet you need someone who can provide a diversion so you'll be the last thing on their mind. They're obviously looking for you, but they're not looking for me. I'm going to let them find me so you can get away."

"D'ye ken what you're doing, lass? These are dangerous men." He scratched his head, clearly not knowing what to think.

"Listen," I told him, "you may not realize it, but I can take care of myself. I have tricks up my sleeve that you have no way of knowing about. My father was a Russian fisherman, he was tough. He taught his kids to be tough, to never be afraid. I'm walking into this with eyes wide open, and I don't need anyone to defend me. No matter the outcome, it will be all right. They're hunting for a Jacobite, not a woman who has no loyalties either way. How can they know if I've seen you? I was scared and I spent the night in one of the tombs. They didn't see me because they weren't looking for me, it's as simple as that. Now you better get going while the going is good."

He threw back his head and laughed. In the growing light of the down I could see that he had a mop of curly red hair and beautiful cornflower blue eyes. "If that's the way ye want it, then who am I to argue. If you ever need the help of Jamie Fraser, I owe you a debt."

"I'm Irina Bogdashevkaya, pleased to meet you. Thank you, Jamie, I won't forget this. Russians don't forget a debt. Now please go, I'm going to have to present myself to your Campbells and sell them a story."

"Now that's a name I won't forget," he smiled. He bowed his head briefly, waved, and then took off. Now yon was a man, I could hear Mrs. Struan say, not that Mac was any less of one.

I wondered what he was doing, but the Rebellion was going on and there were undoubtedly spies from both sides roaming Scotland. I wish I had a way of letting the losers know their fate, so they could take steps to avoid it, but I'm not so much of a fool to think that I could change history. History and the excavating of it was my business, after all.

Suddenly I bowed my head, caught up in the realization I was nowhere near the village, or the Scotland that I knew. Maybe if I could make it back to the menhir-but I could hear the sound of men waking up and with the sky beginning to lighten the way it was, someone was sure to see me.

I began to pick my way quietly through the woods. I didn't want to be seen, I planned to wait in the woods until the Campbell party had left. I wondered about the mysterious Jamie Fraser. Who was he and what had he been doing? I hadn't researched the history of Scotland much, so I really had no idea where the different clan territories would have been. I knew enough to know that it was basically Jacobite versus the Crown loyal clans, and I had picked up enough to know that the Campbells had been known as the worst of traitors to their countrymen.

Snap! A boot stepped on a twig, I knew that without even having to look. I held still, held my breath, my denim jacket wasn't too obvious, but the bright red scarf that I'd found in the tartan shop, and the silver pin I'd bought to hold it, would have stood out like a flag. All I could do was stand and breathe as quietly as I could. With any luck, if he wasn't looking for me, he wouldn't find me. "Please god," I breathed, "Let him be alone. Let him just be taking a leak. Let him go back to his friends and let me get out of here."

But to where? I asked myself. Somehow I'd tripped a wire in time and I knew with sinking heart that the cozy little inn that Mrs. Struan ran would not be in the village—if the village was even there. I was caught up in the spell of the fairy stones, and only with the help of the stones, of the giant menhir's whose shadow I must have slept in, did I stand any chance of returning home.

I love fairy tales. I love the stories that my father—damn him—and my babushka used to tell me. I've read mythology from all sorts of cultures, I love the stories of the Mabinogion—Rhiannon, Math, Pwyll, Gwydion. I love the elegant French fairy tales my mother told me, but I loved to hear them sitting by a fire or in a big overstuffed chair where I am firmly rooted on the ground and safe. No one has ever told me how I get out of one if I accidentally fall into it, and if the Campbells didn't move their collective arses soon I was going to be stuck spending the night in the wood, or even worse, captured.

I stayed as still as I could. Maybe he wouldn't notice me, if he did, I was in trouble. It would be obvious that I was not from around here, I was not from anywhere they were familiar. If they asked me about Jamie Fraser I would play as dumb as I could. If I was caught I would be cooperative, but deceptive. Like I heard someone say on an "X-Files" episode, a lie is most conveniently hidden between two truths.

He was almost past me. Don't look, don't look, I thought, just keep going. I'm not here, I'm a figment of your imagination, a dream. I don't belong to this time, I am an accidental tourist.

Almost past, almost past…but I was not fated to be that lucky. By chance he turned and saw me, then tried to grab my arm. And found himself sitting on the ground for his trouble.

He looked at me and shook his head, "How did ye do that, lass?"

"Some people are more than they seem." I liked the way that sounded and he looked puzzled. I looked around and saw one of his friends coming to join him. The other stopped, saw his friend on the ground, looked at me, then back at him.

"What the hell did she do to ye, Gordon?"

"She didn't do anything, ma feet slipped out from under me. Now, will ye give me a hand and help me up?" Well, I can understand why he wouldn't want to admit he was there because of me. He had feet big enough that tripping could have been a problem all on his own. I wisely kept my mouth shut.

"We need to take her to Georgie and Colin, Abner. She's here where she clearly don't belong. They can decide what to do with her. Come along, lass, and there'll be no trouble."

I followed without complaint. I promised Jamie that I'd keep the attention on me and away from him and I intended to make good on that promise. The poor Jacobites, so many would be killed in the battle of Culloden, and so many more pursed to their deaths. The Scots felt so passionately for their Bonnie Prince Charlie, they love a lost cause. Even worse, they'll fight among themselves over it.

I think Abner and Gordon were surprised at how well I kept up with them. It was nearly a quarter of a mile to the Campbell camp, and when we got there I was surprised at the number of men that comprised the hunting party. My original guess had been about ten, it was closer to twenty or more. Most of the men rode good horses, English horses, not the traditional ponies the Scots tended to favor. I could smell cooking, too, and it reminded me that I had not eaten since the night before. I was sure to be made a captive, so I hoped that my captors would treat me kindly and feed me.

Six men were seated together before a fire. Four were older, older than me, maybe thirty five or more, but one of them, a good looking young man, was twenty at the oldest. The one sitting next to him had white blond hair and deep set grey eyes, he was attractive, but not nearly so as his friend. The two of them, plus one of the older men, wore hunting kilts, while the others dressed in English garments clearly meant for outdoor sports. Too bad the sport they pursued was human, a young Jacobite as prey.

"Sir," Gordon addressed the youngest one, "We found her in the woods, near where we were tracking the Jacobite. There's no sign of the Jacobite, but we found her skulking about in the woods."

"I was not skulking," this was my cue to speak up. I looked at the young one, the one he addressed as "sir" and could have lost my heart there and then. Beautiful brown eyes with the long lashes some men are blessed with and women covet. He looked like he might not be as tall as his blond friend, but even with the kilt I could tell he had broad shoulders and a slender waist. And yes, I could lie to him without problem, but were it between the sheets, well, the truth might spill out of my mouth despite my best intentions.

"Well, what were you doing, lass?" His voice was more Jackson Brown than Antonio Banderas, but it tickled my ear all the same. I'm thirty, but I like younger men, and I was trying to keep myself from thinking of all the things I'd like to do to and with him.

"I'm an arch—I study antiquities. I'm trying to study and measure as many Neolithic stone monuments before they're destroyed. People seem to be fond of knocking the stones down, or stealing them. I hope to leave what I find out for posterity, so people can learn how these places used to look."

"And who might ye be doing this for?" A bit of Scots was slipping through, so far he'd spoken more formally.

"I'm doing this for me, me and no one else." I looked at him defiantly, "Are you one of those men who think women can't do things for themselves? I can take care of myself, and do it very well, with no one's help."

"She's feisty, Georgie," his blond friend said, "I don't think she knows about the Jacobite, she "probably didn't realize she was trespassing on Campbell land."

"This wasn't Campbell land before, though you think you own Scotland, don't you? I don't care about Jacobites, or the British, or Campbells, all I'm interested in is Neolithic stone monuments. It's not as sophisticated as Hadrian's Wall, I know, but it's a lot older and that makes it interesting to me." Sometimes I talk too much, but the two of them seemed to find me amusing, so much the better.

"Why don't we take her with us?" one of the Brits spoke up. "We're not going to find him, let's head back."

"I agree, cousin, I'm all for sleeping in my bed," Colin spoke up, "We can take her with us. I'd like to see what she looks like in decent clothes. You're a pretty thing, my dear," he said, addressing me, "What is your name by the way?"

"Irina Victoria Bogdashevskaya," I made a mock bow. I emphasized the consonants with a good imitation of my father's Russian accent. I love the sound of Russian, I always have. I'm so glad that my father made us learn Russian. I am fluent in Russian, French, and English, and if I ever have children, they're going to learn Russian, too.

"That's Russian. How do you come to live here?" One of the Englishmen was looking at me suspiciously, but I was prepared.

"My father was a Russian fisherman who came to Belgium to try to make a better life for himself. My mother was the daughter of a wool merchant, and they fell in love and married. My father went to work for his father-in-law and did quite well for himself. My parents are both dead now, and left me enough money to pursue my passion for antiquities." (It was hard to use that word, the term archaeology wasn't really in vogue then, but the rich loved their ancient treasures, so that's what I'd pretend to be, an antiquarian who dug and sold my discoveries to the rich)

Suddenly, most embarrassingly, the world started to grow fuzzy and I became unbearably lightheaded. Just before I fainted I could hear myself say, "I think I need to eat something." Then the world grew black and I knew no more.


	3. The Captain and the Moonlight

When I came to, I found myself lying on the ground, propped against a saddle. I pushed myself up slowly, not sure if the dizziness would return. I breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared the spell was over.

This hadn't happened in a really long time. The doctors had never been sure of what caused it. They'd guessed blood sugar, and suggested I watch my diet, but even then they didn't really know. This hadn't happened to me in five years, and the last thing I'd wanted to happen was to faint in front of the skeptical Scotsman.

I looked up and saw the skeptical Scot in question standing in front of me. "I brought you some food," he said, "it's not fancy but it's all we have." He paused for a moment, "Are you all right?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, and it puzzled me. "Yes, I'm just very embarrassed. I'm not of a fainting disposition. Maybe it was stress, fear, I don't know. Maybe I just needed food." I began to eat—a piece of ham, some cheese, and the mug of small ale that he'd offered. "And maybe it's because you scare me."

"Oh, I don't think I'm anything for you to be afraid of," he said, and I thought, that's what you think. Up close Georgie was even better looking, and at thirty I considered myself too old for men, especially a twenty year old, to make me nervous—but he did.

"I just need to know who you are and what you're doing here. There's Jacobite spies on the loose, I've been chasing one of them. I take no chances where they are concerned."

I looked at him, debating what to say. "Do I look like a Jacobite spy, and are they really such a threat to you? You outnumber them and out gun them. If they're foolish enough to rise up against the English, they'll find themselves wiped out. Do I like the fact that England has absorbed Scotland and robbed them of their independence—no. I also don't believe in lost causes, and I hate to say it, but Scottish independence is a lost cause. The Jacobites would be better off learning to live with their situation, like the Britains did with the Romans."

He looked at me, "You really mean that, don't you? Be careful whose company you say that in. You might offend the wrong person and find yourself dead." The look of concern on his face was very sweet, but I also read the signs of lust—he'd clearly undress and have me right there if he could.

"Anyway, Colin has spoken for you. He doesn't believe you're a Jacobite spy. For myself, I don't know what I think. You seem sincere enough—you think the Jacobites are fools, which they are, even though you feel sorry for them. And you are an unco pretty girl, I'll grant you that."

I drained the last of my ale and handed him the mug. "Can I have some more of that, please? So it's my looks and Colin that are saving me? Would I be less lucky if I were ugly?"

"You're not getting off so easily, I'm bringing you back with us. I don't know if I can trust you, and I can keep a better eye on you at home. And besides, my Da will like to talk about antiquities with you. And if you think you can fool him, you can think again."

"So, just who is your father, and who are you for that matter?"

"My father is the laird of Clan Campbell. I'm his oldest son and heir. Colin is my cousin, his father is my father's brother. When I'm away from home, I'm my father's voice. I take my responsibilities very seriously. That's why I'm taking no chances with you. I don't know how much, if anything, you know, but I won't take the risk. More than one woman has used her pretty face to hide hidden intentions. There's something about you, though, you seem confused by where you are. And you don't act like a Scottish or an Englishwoman, you don't act like any woman I've ever seen—period." He paused before he went on, "And somehow you seem to need help, so I'll do what I can for you, as long as you don't betray me."

He laid his gloved hand on my cheek, "You better not be afraid of horses because we have a long ride ahead of us. You're riding pillion behind me and you best try no tricks."

I widened my eyes, my "wolf's eyes" at him. "I'm Russian, remember, I'm the descendent of Cossacks. I've been riding since I was big enough to sit up in the saddle." Take that, you cocky, arrogant, gorgeous Scotsman, I thought.

He laughed me, "We'll see about that. If I trusted you, I'd put you on a horse just to see if you can prove your words. As it is, we'll have to wait and see." He reached out his hand and pulled me up, "You shall have more ale when we stop for lunch."

He had a gorgeous horse. A big, tall bay with a white left hind hoof. He mounted up easily, obviously used to being in the saddle. He looked at me, then removed his boot from the left stirrup and held out his hand.

I took his hand and placed my foot in the stirrup. He pulled me up easily and I settled in behind his saddle. I put my arms around his waist, determined not to fall. He must have been a little surprised, no less than I when he patted my hands. I don't think either of us knew what that was about, but I loved the warmth of the horse, and the way it felt to hold onto—Georgie. I shut that thought out of my head before I could take it any further.

I wondered where the young, red headed Jacobite was. I hadn't lied to Georgie when I told him the Jacobites were holding onto a lost cause, and would lose many lives if they rose up in rebellion—they did. But I didn't tell him that I'd be willing to lend a hand if it were at no risk to myself, that I did sympathize with them. He probably wouldn't believe me if I told him that in 40 years the British would be out of the American colonies for good. I wished that I could say the same for Scotland. And why did I always want to stand up for the underdog, even if it meant I might get myself hurt?

We'd gotten underway, Georgie leading the column, Colin close behind him. The cousins were evidently close, one minute they were joking and laughing, the next the conversation would turn to serious matters. I realized now this had been no hunting party, but a search party. I don't think they cared who they were looking for, any Jacobite spy would do. As Georgie had hinted, they took it very seriously. If I had any part in helping Jamie escape, I was grateful, and it had nothing to do with how much I was beginning to like the two cousins.

It is one thing to know about an event in history, and to know its outcome, but it's another matter altogether to be in the middle of it. History, especially according to the Scots, paints the Campbells as traitors, villains even. I looked around at the men who rode with us, and I didn't see villains, I saw husbands, sons, brothers, cousins, and fathers. They believed just as passionately as did the Jacobites. They're loyal to the Crown and not ashamed of it. Maybe it's because the leader of the clan believes that the British are what Scotland needs. Who knows? I could betray no one to anyone, and crossed my fingers that I would not be asked to.

My Russian father is the penultimate horseman. In his eyes there are two kinds of people, those who ride and those who don't. Before I could even walk, he would put me into the saddle before him, and holding me tightly would take me for a long lovely ride. I have never, ever, gotten sore riding a horse.

That's why I experienced no discomfort riding behind Georgie. The warmth of the horse, Georgie's warmth, the smooth rocking gait of the horse made me feel relaxed, and soon after that, sleepy. Before I knew it, Georgie was slapping me playfully on the thigh, telling me to wake up or I'd fall.

To my embarrassment, I found that I had huddled against him like a child, my hold around his waist had tightened. I sat up, pulled away, and kept my grip around his waist only as firm as need be. He spurred his horse, as if to tease me, and we galloped a ways out ahead of the train. We rode up a small hillock, and he pulled his horse up and pointed out a large valley.

The view was breathtaking, the mountains against the sky, the little valley nestled at their foot. I could see the glimmer of a small lake reflecting the sun.

"That's where we're going, that's my home. I never get tired of this view." He patted my leg, "Wait until you see it close up, there's no prettier sight in the world."

He hadn't seen my home. No one would be living there for at least 150 years. The British had established Fort Vancouver, but the Americans had not yet claimed the Oregon Territory, they hadn't even fought the American Revolution. I suddenly grew very homesick.

"We'll be there in a few hours." He didn't seem to notice my silence, "You can have a bath and Mistress Simms will find you some clothes. She's practically raised me since my mother died. She runs the household, and all the rest of us." He turned his horse and we joined the rest of the party.

We did not speak for the rest of the ride. Sometimes his gloved hand would touch mine, as if to ask if I was all right. There was an easiness between us, I could not deny that. Maybe he had made up his mind that I was not a spy, maybe he saw the lovely face and blond hair." If you are beautiful, men covet you," my father always warned. "Don't let yourself be their prize." Now why are you thinking that, I asked myself, I was at least ten years older than him—he was twenty at most. I must be old in his eyes, and with a face like that, I'm sure that he had all the girls in the household at his beck and call.

We entered the valley between two tall peaks—the entrance would have been hard to find if you did not know where to look. We rode along beside the lake, and I could see a perfect reflection of clouds and blue sky in the water. Beautiful, yes, but not as beautiful as the alpine lakes in the Cascades. It was rougher here, somehow, more violent. Still the scenery took my breath away.

Once past the lake, the track we were riding on turned into a road. We rode perhaps a mile, and a large house came into view. It wasn't a castle, someone had modeled it after a French chateau. As we rode closer, I could see the light of mullioned colored glass windows. "La Mere," said Colin, startling me, he had just pulled up next to Georgie and me, "We call it 'La Mere' after the lake. It was a castle, a very old one that had fallen down, so my grandfather took the stones and added the stained glass to please his French wife. You should see the gardens she had built. Nothing was too good for her."

As we rode up to the great double doors, I could see that the inhabitants of the chateau had turned out for us. Georgie and Colin dismounted. Georgie tried to help me off the horse, but I ignored him and slid off. Two grooms came forward and took their horses, disappearing around the back of the chateau. Colin took my arms and led me into the house. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I'm sure father will love you and my Uncle George, too. We may be Campbells, but we're friendly and make our guests welcome. Georgie and I will take you hunting and fishing, and you can ride with us every morning. Or, you can ride with me, at least." He smiled, mischievously, and winked.

Mrs. Simms was almost as tall as I am, thin and held herself ramrod straight. She did not seem old enough to supervise the running of the household, but she was bustling and efficient. I watched as everyone did as she directed, proving that she, indeed, was the chatelaine of Chateau La Mere. With her jet black hair pulled tightly back, with her spotless apron and cap, she seemed a formidable figure, indeed.

As soon as Georgie and Colin introduced me to her, she waved them away and told them to go find their fathers. "I expect you'll be wanting a bath, Mistress, after all that time in the saddle. I'll get you soaking and find some clothes for you. Old Mrs. Campbell was tall like you, I may have one or two of her old gowns in the cupboard that you can wear. What I have wouldn't suit you miss…"

"Irina, please call me Irina. Mistress seems so formal."

"Well, Irina it will be then. I can remake a few of old Mrs. Campbell's dresses for you, her riding habit, too, if you care for such things." She looked at my Doc Martins and her tongue clicked in disapproval. "Well, unfortunately we big girls have big feet. There's no one whose shoes will fit you, but I'm sure the lairds will take care of that. Now follow me and we'll get you that bath. Old Mrs. Campbell believed in cleanliness, and she did love her baths."

She led me to a curious room. There was a fireplace set in the wall in which a fire had been stoked, providing heat for the room. I noticed a hole in the floor which must have been used to sluice away the water, indoor plumbing eighteenth century style. A wooden tub, lined with bath sheets sat in the center, and maids were started to fill the tub with hot and cold water. There were cupboards on the wall and suddenly I longed to strip off my clothes and sink into the steaming water.

I had barely enough time to bathe when Mrs. Simms came in, a blue-grey silk dress in her arms, along with various female accoutrements. I was amazed at the layers of clothing that women wore, not to mention the corset. She left off the curious pillow like thing that it seemed women wore around their waist to better hide the fact that I still wore my boots. And she procured for me a silver grey shawl to drape over my shoulders and provide extra warmth. The chateau was well built, but tended to be drafty.

She fussed over my hair as she brushed it, then braided it in one long braid down my back with blue and silver ribbons. When she handed me the mirror so I could see, I must admit I was pleased with the result.

Mrs. Simms walked me downstairs to where the cousins were waiting. I got appreciative looks from both, which I cannot say made me unhappy. "I knew you would look beautiful in a dress," breathed Colin, the remark taking me aback somehow. While I found nothing to dislike in him, somehow I couldn't quite like him in the way I felt I ought.

Georgie on the other hand just smiled, and offered me his arm. Colin took the other, and they led me into the hall and took me to meet their fathers. I didn't know what to expect. It was all happening too quickly. I felt like a new doll or toy being showed off, but I found myself put at ease by the elder Campbells.

"Father, Uncle this is Irina..." here he hesitated and I spoke up for him.

"Bogdashevskaya. A good Russian name, but our language sometimes seems unpronounceable—like Gaelic. I am fortunate because I have spoken it since childhood, and therefore it is no challenge for me."

Twins, I would not have guessed that their fathers were twins. I am sure that in their youth they had been the mirror of each other, but time had changed that, as it changes all of us.

George Adam Ronald Murat Campbell, the father of young Georgie, was thin, his face heavily lined, but he had his son's smile, and a twinkle in his brown eyes. He took my hand and kissed it, "You are very lovely, my dear, I am happy to welcome you to our home."

Adam Russell Gordon Murat Campbell was heavier than his brother, his face now broader. But each of them had Georgie's lovely brown eyes. He reminded me of a less dyspeptic Bach, only taller. He too, kissed my hand. "We are very lucky to have you gracing our home."

Yech. Now I know where Colin got it. But despite the overt flattery, they were two very lovely men. Were I attracted to older men, I would not mind a flirtation from either or both of them. I liked the elder Campbells very much, and hoped that I would have the opportunity to get to know them better.

A footman came through, ringing a bell to announce dinner. Adam Campbell took my hand firmly under his arm and led me into dinner. I was placed near the lairds—evidence to all that I was considered an honored guest. The boys seated themselves not far from me-this looked to be a most entertaining dinner.

One other guest was there, a British captain named Jonathan Randall. He looked to be about Colin's height—which I guessed was five-eleven. His long, dark hair was tied back with a black ribbon, and he was dressed impeccably in civilian clothes. His eyes were almost as dark as his hair, and he was handsome in a careless way, but I did not like him. Sometimes I can see auras, and his was dark, menacing. He was handsome, charming, took my hand and kissed it when we were introduced, but I was not convinced. Some people, if you are empathetic enough, just feel wrong, and the instant he touched my hand I wanted to jerk it away.

No, I did not like Jonathan Wolverton Randall, Esq. at all.

The meal was typically Scottish, an elaboration on what Mrs. Struan would serve, only there were several more meat dishes. A lot of laughter, often from one of the two brothers, or from one of the many guests that sat at the table.

The mood of the company was contagious. Soon I was conversing both in French and English, occasionally slipping into Russian, then trying to translate something that made sense in neither French nor English. Ronald patted my knee, "Don't worry my dear," he said, "We all tend to slip into our childhood languages when we drink wine that is as excellent as this. My Mother spoke French to my brother and I so often that we would answer in French when our Father spoke to us in English. You are lucky that you are fluent in such a difficult language. Can you read it?"

"No, he started to teach us the Cyrillic alphabet, but he was so busy he didn't have time. I am grateful that he made sure that we could speak English, but English is used quite a bit in his business. He was very insistent on our being educated, even his daughters.

"Good for him," he answered, then turned to answer a question he'd been asked about the harvest this year.

"You are most curious, mademoiselle," said Randall, speaking French. "You don't seem to belong here, just what were you doing here?"

I had a ready answer for him, hopefully believable. "Are you familiar with the study of antiquities, Mr. Randall? No?" He shook his head—thank you god. "I have been studying antiquities since a young age. My father was able to find a family who would take me to Egypt with them, and I stayed there for three years. He met a man who taught at the Sorbonne, who took me under his wing, and I was able to study ancient history, though they would not grant me a degree.

"I now specialize in the antiquities trade, especially for wealthy patrons who desire ancient treasures. What they want, I attempt to procure. So now I have both a generous inheritance from my father, I also have an income—and am respected in my field. I've come to England to study sites such as Stone Henge, and Avebury. I would like to travel to the Orkneys and see Sten Ness, after that I will probably go back to Brussels."

Get tired of me talking, please. I've told you enough truth that you don't know the greater lie I've hidden. And thankfully, intelligent women obviously not being his thing, he turned and started talking to someone else.

After dinner, the men excused themselves and went to smoke cigars and drink port. Rather than remaining with the women, I excused myself and tried to find someplace where I could sit and catch my breath. If I found myself having to explain myself too often, it would create a strain on my nerves. I don't know how I was going to get back to the stone circle, but I would be patient and wait, surely an opportunity would present itself.

I walked into a small parlor, and drew back the velvet curtains that covered the window. That treacherous moon that had seemed to follow me throughout my strange odyssey was now full, and the moon shone so brightly that no light was needed in the little room.

There was the faintest hint of light, or maybe a streak of silver where the moon illuminated the lake. The valley was lit with the eeriest of light, making the hills seem both light and shadow. I wonder if the builder of the chateau had seem the valley in the moonlight before he chose this as the place to build his home. I wondered again if the handsome young Jacobite had managed to make good his escape. Where was he now, I wondered.

I smelt him before I felt him. An odor of patchouli, musky and fragrant. The kind of scent a man would wear—if he found such a thing pleasing.

Two hands were on my waist and he was breathing in my ear. The hands grew bolder and when they could not find their way into my bodice, settled instead for cupping my breasts, and pulling me closer to him.

"Stop that," I said, not in the manner of a hysterical or embarrassed and insulted female, but in a voice that showed that I meant business. Instead of stopping, one hand slipped down to my laces and fumbled with them, trying to loosen them.

"I said, stop," I repeated, my voice only loud enough to be heard in the room.

"Why?" Black Jack Randall whispered in my ear, "You're but some common whore the Campbell boys no doubt found. I doubt your claims of being a dealer in antiquities, though I might be inclined to believe you're Russian, I don't believe you are entirely innocent."

"You've undoubted not met Lady Lucille Duff Gordon, I was a guest of hers for a time. Rather shocking she is, she wears Eastern clothes and smokes cigarettes, and takes care of her Egyptians. Either way, I've asked you to stop what you're doing and you're showing no signs of doing it.

"And what do you intend to do about it?" he asked.

"This." I did as my sensei had taught me: used his weight against him and flipped him over my shoulders. I set my foot, clad in my Doc Martins, on his neck. I felt him grab my ankle to try to push me off, so I increased the pressure.

"Now," I told him, "This is what we are going to do. You are going to leave early in the morning. If you try to explain this to someone they won't believe you. You realize I could probably kill you if I wanted, just a bit more pressure on your neck would do it. Everyone thinks Russians are crazy and we don't do anything to disillusion them.

"The laird and his brother seem to be quite taken with me, so I don't think I'd have any problem making them believe me when I tell them you tried to make improper advances in spite of my telling you no. The best part is I'd be telling them the truth, so I don't think you'd be very welcome here after this. And they're loyal subjects of the crown, they're not wild eyed Highlanders."

"Tell you what, if you promise to be a good boy, I'll let you up. And don't even think about trying to retaliate, you'll just find yourself on the floor again. Do we have a deal?"

He nodded, as best he could, and got up. Of course he tried to attack me, and I swept his feet out from under him, inwardly blessing my father for making his children take Karate all those years.

When I let him up again, we stood and stared at each other, taking the other's measures. His aura was no less dark than before, and suddenly, irrationally, I was afraid for Georgie and Colin.

"There is more to you than meets the eye," he told me, his hate clearly showing in his handsome face."

"Yes, and you'd be wise to remember it. I'm not a subject of the crown, but I don't support the Jacobites rebelling because it would only result in far too many needless deaths. Death is something I am not particularly fond of, especially when it happens to an underdog. All I want to do is get back to Brussels to see my mother, and then return to Egypt. You leave me alone, I will leave you alone, but this is one woman who knows how to fight back." I turned, and with a swish of my silk skirts, left the room.


	4. The Barrow Mount

I locked my door that night, not sure if I had gone too far. I had the right to defend myself, it's a God given right, but Captain Randall was an arrogant man, an arrogant dangerous man. Some people just feel wrong when you meet them, and he felt very wrong. I have had this feeling only a few times in my life, but each time it happened my instincts were right. I don't know where I get it from, but I never ignore it.

It took me a while to fall asleep. I might have been able to physically defend myself, but it does not mean it did not leave me shaken. If I could have told someone, it would have been one thing, but this was an awful secret I had to keep to myself.

The first light of dawn was peaking in through gaps in the curtains, but I intended to ignore it and sleep. My plans were upset, however, by loud and persistent knocking at my door.

I wrapped the quilt around me, and answered it. Georgie Campbell was standing there, holding a skirt and a man's shirt. He shoved these at me, saying, "Get dressed and come riding with me. I want to see you prove you really are descended from the horsemen of the steppes." He stood, smiling, waiting for an answer.

I looked at the clothes, then at him. Something told me the shirt I was holding was his, but I did not know where the skirt had come from. "All right," I told him, making up my mind even as I spoke, "I will go riding with you. I'll get dressed and meet you when I'm ready."

"I'll be waiting for you in the library. This will be worth your time, I promise." He gave me his heart breaking smile, and I felt myself melt.

"No," I told myself, "You don't want this. He's young and he's handsome, he's charming and he's deliberately charming you. He's twenty, he's too young for you."

I dressed, pleased that I would not need to wear a corset with the skirt. I pulled a clean pair of socks out of my pack—I would have to wash the others—and put on my Doc Martins.

He was waiting for me in the library. I did not mean to but I gawked at all the books. I looked at one shelf and saw the Roman writers I had read in college: Seneca, Tacitus, Juvenal, Horace. There were volumes of Herodotus, and the "Argonautica" by Apollodoraus of Rhodes—I always had loved the story of the quest for the Golden Fleece. Of course they had the "Iliad" and "The Odyssey". There were more than enough books to keep me occupied for years.

"You like to read, then?" he asked, "This one is a favorite of mine," and he pulled a book off the shelf and showed it to me: "The Republic", by Plato.

"I like it, too, and I also like "The Symposium", though I know some people consider Plato unsuitable for female readers! All of us, my family, I mean, are avid readers. We'll read Shakespeare's plays, for fun. Not to stage them, just sitting and reading them out loud. I'm lucky, I think I've been lucky with my family."

He put the book back on the shelf. "Then you must come in here whenever you like. If someone's in here, just find your book and don't worry about them." He led me to the great front door and opened it, clearly not expecting my reaction.

Captain Randall was standing there, dressed in his red coat. He saw me, and stared, no doubt expecting that I'd look away. I stared back, letting him know he could not intimidate me. It was enough to make him turn back to his men and pretend I wasn't there.

"Is he leaving?" I asked Georgie, and he shrugged.

"He was supposed to be here a week, but he told my father this morning that something came up and he had to return to headquarters. This is very odd, he's never left early before."

"Good, I mean I'm glad that he's leaving. There's something about that man that feels, well, evil. He's keeping a secret, there's things that he's hiding. He's dangerous, he'd stick a dirk in your back and think nothing of it." I was starting to shake, and hoped he wouldn't notice.

He put his hands on my arms and looked into my eyes. "My god, you mean that, don't you? Have you had dealings with him before? Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head, "No it's just something I inherited from my Russian ancestors. My father's like this, and one of my brothers. I don't know where it comes from, all I can tell you is I've never been wrong about things like this. You should stay away from him, he's not to be trusted."

"Hmm," was all he said, and dropped my arms. "Come on, let's get you on a horse. You need a good gallop, and then breakfast and maybe a hot bath. You're upset, I don't want you to be. Come on, I promised you a good ride, and that's exactly what you're going to have."

He took me to the stables and I smelled one of my favorite things: horses. A black hunter had already been saddled for him, and they brought out different horses, trying to find one that would suit me.

"Wait," said Georgie, and walked into the depths of the barn, then came out leading a restive, fiery stallion. The horse fought the lead, tossed his head, there was no way I'd get on him, but he was beautiful. He didn't have the pinched eyes of a mean horse, he was more like a spoiled child who would not cooperate if he did not get his own way. I remember my father working with horses like these—they were only ever good for riders who were smarter than the horse. And were kindly and patient.

I wondered if I could work with him and gentle him enough to make him rideable. "No, you know I won't ride him, but how long has it been since anyone worked with him?" It might be too late now, but this horse excited me enough to want to try. He head butted me and I fell in love, even though he almost knocked me over.

I watched as they led him back to his stall and thought, "Okay, I'll be seeing you again."

The groom brought out a chestnut mare. She snorted and danced, seemed well behaved, but spirited. "This is Birdie," said Georgie as he stroked her nose, "When she was a baby, she used to flutter and dart around like she was trying to fly. Himself is her da, and she can be every bit as mulish as him. I think you can make her behave, though watch out for her tricks, she likes to try you."

We led our horses out of the barn and mounted. Birdie danced around as I tried to get on here, but I refused to let a groom help me. My father trained thoroughbreds as a hobby, and enlisted his children as stable help. I've seen jockeys mount horses as they are in motion, and Birdie was no worse than any of them. Georgie seemed impressed at the way I did not let her antics bother me. I didn't know why, I'd told him I'd been around horses—that I was the descendent of Cossacks.

The horses were fresh and eager to get going, so we gave them their heads and let them gallop until they felt like slowing down. I heard hoof beats behind us and looked around—two riders were following us. I looked at Georgie and asked him why.

"Ah lass," his speech grew more Scottish the more he talked to me, "These are dangerous times. We are a country at war. The Jacobites want to overthrow the king and bring back the old Papist order. They're desperate, dangerous men who will do anything to achieve their end. If you want to go riding on your own, always have one of my guards, or at least a groom with you. You're not to go out on your own, it's too dangerous."

For a moment I was ready to argue, then I remembered what I had read about the war. It was violent and bloody, the Jacobites were waging a fairly effective war against the English. I wonder if this war had split families like it did during the Civil War. So I decided not to argue with him, this time. I was a guest of Clan Campbell, so perhaps it was just as well that I honor his wishes.

I wondered what had happened to Jamie Fraser, the young Jacobite I had met. He'd no doubt counter every argument that Georgie Campbell presented, and probably the two young hotheads would pull their swords, trying to prove their manhood, Sigh. If only it were as harmless as that. Suddenly I wanted to see Jamie very badly, but I hoped he'd not wander so deeply into Clan Campbell territory alone.

"I have something to show you, something you might like to see." Georgie turned his horse onto a track that barely was a path. Evidently this was very old, and led to a place that had once been well visited, but very long ago, maybe even centuries. We rode for a while along the path, then turned onto another that led to a clearing. He sat back in his saddle, very pleased with himself, enjoying the expression on my face when I saw what lay before me.

It was a barrow, a big one though not overly so. There was a ditch that surrounded its perimeter and a few stones stood around it, though there must have been more when the mound was first built.

"Oh my," I breathed, and fought the urge to get down from my horse to explore. It was in near perfect condition and I was dying to know if it had fallen victim to tomb robbers. Judging by its size, and the careful construction, it must have belonged to someone from an important family. Probably only one individual was buried in it, but it was also possible that this was a family tomb.

The archaeologist in me wanted to get my equipment and start taking notes and measurements, but another part of me wanted to leave it alone. This was a lovely discovery, and I was grateful to Georgie for showing it to me.

I started to ride around the perimeter, when I looked down and saw footprints, large footprints, footprints that might belong to a big man. There were no hoof prints, but he hadn't had a pony or horse when I met him. I wonder if he'd made himself a camp here. Jamie, is this you? I thought.

"Stop it," I told myself, "You have no idea who it is, or if they're still there." but I knew somehow that it was Jamie. I wondered what he was doing in Campbell territory, enemy territory. I couldn't do anything about this now, I didn't even know the country well enough to ride at night—if I could get a horse out of the stable—and I definitely knew I could not find this place on my own, not yet.

Hoping that Georgie hadn't seen the footprints, I turned Birdie around. "I'm hungry, I'm ready to go back. I can't thank you enough for showing it to me. I'd really like to come back here, though, there's a lot to study. Would it be possible for me to come back here on my own so I can study this place? I'm wondering if there's any more barrows or graves, if there are any standing stones. This place must be four thousand years old, at least, maybe even older." I tried to give him my most charming smile.

"I'll see what I can arrange. Come on, I'm hungry too. Let's go get our breakfast." He turned his hunter and I followed him as we galloped down the track, back to Chateau La Mere.

We took our breakfast in the kitchen, then Mrs. Simms informed me that the seamstress would be in shortly to measure me for some new gowns, gifts from the Mr. Campbells. I smiled and pretended to be pleased. The fact that I was being provided with a new wardrobe hammered home the fact that I was helpless, I was trapped here with no way to escape. In spite of the kindness of my hosts, in spite of the warmth and friendliness with which I was treated, I was a prisoner in fact, miles from that place I needed to be.

I wanted to go home.

I submitted gracefully to the ministrations of the seamstress. In addition to materials for everyday gowns, there were two exquisite lengths of silk, one sky blue and the other a rose pink color. It would be nice, I thought, to wear new clothes, not gowns that were almost twice as old as me and I was afraid would rip if I moved wrong. Not that I minded old Mrs. Campbell's dresses—right now the seamstress was altering a gown made of dark green and gold silk brocade. I didn't care how old fashioned the dress was, it was simply lovely and emphasized the color of my hair.

I was able to wear the gown that night. The lairds had invited some of their neighbors, and there was a small dinner party. I, evidently, was the guest of honor, but it could have been anyone or any occasion. The lairds, as I learned later, enjoined entertaining and would use any excuse that was available.

Georgie smiled his approval through dinner. I did my best to simultaneously ignore him and be polite. He was too handsome and too young. He was so appealing with those eyes that matched his dark brown hair. He even charmed me into dancing with him after dinner after I protested that I knew none of the dances, but he guided me so well following the steps was easy.

I made my escape as the last of the guests were leaving. He had been watching me all night, a look on his face that I could not interpret. It made me uneasy, and all I wanted to do now was escape to my room and lock the door behind me.

I started up the stairs, checking to make sure he had not followed me—why. I feared that I did not know, but I did. By the time I heard the footsteps behind me, it was too late to try to defend myself. Georgie pinned my arms next to my sides and pressed me close to him, then dragged me to a hidden alcove at the top of the stairs.

"I saw you with Jack Randall," he whispered, "I was going to come to your aid but you seemed able to defend yourself. Too bad that you made an enemy, he's not someone you want to cross, but I suppose you didn't have much choice."

I said nothing. I could do nothing, he was holding me too tightly, his grip like iron. He began to caress my neck with his lips, blow gently in my ear, then caressing it with his tongue, oh so lightly, but it made me shiver and I wanted him to stop—but I didn't.

He shifted his grip to free one hand. I could not get away, I could do nothing and he knew it. He loosened my laces and found my breasts, caressing them. He pulled me further back into the alcove where no one could see us.

With a skilled hand he raised my petticoats and skirt, then fumbled with his trousers, probably wishing he was wearing his kilt. Then in spite of my protestations, he pushed himself into me, rocking both of us against the wall. The hand he placed over my mouth was not to keep me from calling out for help, and we both knew it.

I gave up any pretense of resistance and gave in to him. We were both lost and knew it. I don't know how long it lasted, but when he at last pulled out of me, my legs felt like jelly, and I collapsed onto him, helpless, utterly and blissfully spent.

But I had one shred of dignity left, "Why in the world did you do that, with all the lovely young girls in this household? You don't need me."

"Oh, but I want you, lass," he was sounding very Scottish, "I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you. I told Colin I planned to marry you, so don't think you're going to be leaving me."

"What if I don't want to marry you?" I retorted, but he only smiled.

"Well, you'll just have to get used to the fact that you are."

I was furious, and started to walk way when something made me turn around and look at him. He was smiling, that glorious, infuriating smile that I loved. I held out my hand, and he took it, and I took him to my room where we'd have all night.


	5. My Lady

He left sometime in the middle of the night, I think. I rolled over and spent the rest of the night where he'd been, inhaling the fragrance of outdoors, whisky, and Georgie. All I know is I slept better than I had before this whole adventure began.

Someone began pounding on my door, and as I opened my eyes I realized light was coming in, and it was daybreak. I pulled on my shift, and went to the door and opened it carefully.

"Get up," he bounded in with that energy that so amazed me, "Get dressed, we're going riding.'

"No, I'm going to sleep, you kept me awake for half the night. We can ride tomorrow, or maybe even this afternoon." I was trying to shove him out the door, but he would have none of it.

"Well, if you don't want to ride, we'll do something else. It will be a while before anyone misses me." To make his point he pushed me against the wall, and started to pull up my nightgown. He put his face close to mine, close enough to kiss me, but I ducked out from underneath his arm.

"No, you don't do that again until you have your father's permission to court me. You said you wanted to marry me, so you prove it. You probably have the pick of the girls around here, you don't need me. You want me, you have to deserve me." I emphasized the word, "I'm thirty years old, I'm not available for indiscriminate tumbles in the hay, or whatever. I've outgrown that. You want me, you treat me the way I deserve to be treated."

"Thirty are you? I thought you were maybe twenty five at the most, if that. So, I guess I've fallen in love with an older woman—they'll be saying you seduced me, you know."

"I'll set them straight—it was half a rape. If I'd tried to tell you "no", how much good would it have done me?"

"Not much," he admitted, "Now, I told Colin I was going to marry you, not that I wanted to marry you. So if I have to talk to my da before you'll let me in your bed again, I guess that's what I'll have to do. Can we go riding please? I'll even take you back to the barrow if you like."

I gave in—it was the path of least resistance. I couldn't convince him to leave while I dressed, he made himself useful and helped tie my petticoats and my cuffs. He fingered the scarf that I had coveted and splurged on, along with the silver brooch. He put it around my neck, not even looking at my denim jacket, and fastened the pin.

"Where did you get this lass?" he asked, "It's very fine work."

"Oh, at a shop in Edinburgh," I said carelessly. I didn't know what Inverness was like now, so Edinburgh seemed bigger and safe.

"Well, it's very fine work, and the red suits you," he said, and took my hand as we made our way down the stairs and out of the house.

They'd saddled his bay for him, and Birdie for me. She eyed me warily as I mounted her. She'd tried to unseat me a couple of times yesterday, but learned that I was wise to her tricks. There was no prancing or turning as I swung up into the saddle.

"Ready?" asked Georgie, and we galloped off, heading for the hills. This time I paid careful attention to where we rode. If I had to sneak a horse out of the stable at night, I'd better know where I was riding, though the country would be pitch black without moonlight. It had been dark when I'd been on digs, but we usually lit fires, had flashlights…

How could I have been so stupid? There was a small flashlight in my pack that cast a powerful beam. As long as I memorized the landmarks and knew the road, I could ride away at night. That made me feel much better, I had solved a problem, knocked down a roadblock. If I decided I wanted to leave the chateau, a way might have opened up.

At the turnoff to the barrow was a boulder with a large juniper growing next to it. The tree was so tall and scraggly it looked like it could have been planted when the barrow was built, but junipers don't live that long. A perfectly round boulder, so round that it must have been worked, stood at the head of the avenue that lead to the mound. All landmarks I could identify if I needed to.

There were two stones, carved into rough rectangular shape that stood next to the ditch surrounding the mound. I looked around, trying to find the sun to determine where on the point of the compass they would have stood.

"Where's east?" I asked, feeling stupid as I did so.

"That way," Georgie pointed to the stones. I rode around the ditch, circumnavigating the mound, trying to fix the points of the compass in my mind while I searched for footprints. No fresh prints, and maybe it hadn't been Jamie after all. Somehow I felt let down when I realized that. He wouldn't have come to Campbell lands, after all, but I had still wanted to see him. Somehow he was a connection to the ordeal I had gone through.

I joined Georgie at the two stones, standing at the edge of the ditch, looking oddly like two teeth in a bare gum. "Has anyone ever come here for the winter or summer solstice? It's possible that the sun will shine through the gap in the stones," here I pointed out where I meant. "It would shine from one direction for winter, and another for summer. It does that at Stonehenge, it comes in through two stones on Mid Summer's Day. It doesn't look like there were every any other stones here, just these. I wonder if a priest, and maybe his family, was buried here."

"It's possible the witches come here for their esbats, but they'd not tell anyone in the village about it. They don't burn witches at the stake anymore, but that doesn't mean that they necessarily want people to know what they were up to. They do a good business with potions and spells, but no one would want to know what else goes on. Are you a witch, my little Russian lassie?

"I'll never tell," I teased, "Can't I come up here alone? It's only a few miles from the chateau. If I have to bring an escort," I pointed my thumb at the men who had accompanied us, "I'm sure I wouldn't be left in peace to do the work here I want to do. He'd want to leave way before I was ready to. And besides, how can you tell me I can't? Are we married yet? No. Have you talked to your father yet? No. All you could really do is keep me from getting a horse—but I'd walk here if I had to.

"Now listen carefully," he put his arm around my waist and drew me tightly to him, "You try to go anywhere without an escort and I'll turn you over my knee. And I might even lock you naked in your room and forget that I intend to be a gentleman when it comes to bedding you. And don't even think about refusing me. I'll bed you until I get you in pup, and then you'll have to marry me. Either way, get used to minding me now or face the consequences."

I made a face at him, but I felt my insides starting to melt. I was going to stick to my guns, there would be no more nooky until he made good on his promise, but I wished right now that we could go find a hidden place in the bushes and pick up where we left off last night.

We rode back, deciding to sate our appetites with food in place of what we really wanted. When we finished breakfast, he kissed me and went off to attend to family business. I wondered how I could fill my time, then decided to put Himself on the surcingle and lunge line. I wanted to see if he was capable of being ridden, or if he'd be best just left in the pasture. It wouldn't hurt him to be ridden a little every day, just enough to exercise him and keep his manners in line. Go without riding a horse for long enough, you may find yourself having to break him again, and then good luck.

I went to the tack room to look for what I needed when someone grabbed my shoulder and put his hand over my mouth. "Shh, lass, it's me," a familiar voice said in my ear, "I had to check on you, since I was in the area anyway. I heard that the Campbells had taken you with them, and I wanted to make sure you were being treated well."

"Jamie," I said and wrapped my arms around his waist, "I've been so worried, I thought that you'd gotten away but I had no way of knowing. I thought that maybe you had camped at the barrow mound, but I didn't know for sure. What are you doing here, so deep in Campbell territory?"

"Just a little spying is all. I'm trying to see if there are any Jacobite sympathizers around to recruit for Dougal. I'm heading back to Castle Leoch tonight, but I've been trying to find out if you were here. How are they treating you?"

"Very well, as an honored guest, as a matter of fact. And unless he's lying, the young laird is trying to marry me. I'm sure the lairds will have a thing or two to say about that. If they don't like it, I'll offer to go back to Inverness, and I'll apologize for something that wasn't even my fault. With my luck, though, they'll give their consent, and I'll have a husband whether I want one or not."

He laughed softly, "So Georgie Campbell has fallen for ye! I've heard about that one and his reputation with the ladies, but I can't say I'm surprised if he's smitten with you. I bet you've left a trail of broken hearts whether you're willing to admit it or not. I've got to go, sweetheart, before someone sees me, and good luck trying to gentle that stallion. He's too spoiled for anything but covering mares now, but maybe you can teach him a few manners all the same." He kissed the top of my head, "Be careful and don't give away anything. I'm not saying lie, but don't tell anyone anything they don't need to know."

I hugged him again, "I won't, and you be careful, too. They are constantly sending out patrols, and Georgie brings along two guards every time we ride. Stay under cover and don't let anyone see you—please. I don't want anything to happen to you. Maybe someday..." He gave me one last squeeze, then bowed and ducked out of the tack room. I didn't dare watch to see where he went.

I decided that stallion schooling could wait for another day, and ran up to the safety of my room.

I spent the afternoon curled up in the library. Though not unpleasant, my room was small and the luxury of so much space was hard to resist. I pulled a copy of "The Odyssey" from the shelves. I felt like Odysseus, trying only to go home, obstacle after obstacle thrown in my way by the gods. I was looking forward to teaching a new archaeology class. I was going to Paris before I flew back to Chicago. I wanted Jamie to take me with him, back to Inverness so that I could go back to the standing stone and summon the power to take me back where I belonged.

Unless the stones at the edge of the barrow could help. What would happen if I stood before them at sunrise of the winter solstice? Could I use the energy from the sun to propel my way back to my own time? But the solstice was a good two months away, I told myself, I didn't want to wait that long to go home, if I could help it.

There was a knock at the door, a gentle tapping. "Excuse me miss," it was one of the laird's footmen, "The lairds would like to see you now."

Georgie, evidently, had wasted no time. Both Lord Campbells sat at a desk, facing me. I could not read their faces, except to see consternation, combined with a little amusement. Well, it was amusing, their son was asking to marry a woman no one knew, one with no history, no money, really, and no connections. This was eighteenth century Scotland, not the twenty first century that I knew.

Georgie's father was the first to speak. "We have just finished speaking to my son, to my great astonishment he has said that he wished to marry you."

"No less to mine," I replied, "And I am sorry to be the source of trouble. I did not take him seriously, he is only twenty, is he not? I am sure you have had plans for him for a long time now."

Adam Campbell's mouth twitched at the corner, "Has my nephew made any unwelcome advances to you? Please do not be afraid to tell us the truth."

"Not entirely unwelcome, my lord, but would have been welcomed under other circumstances. I simply told him that he could not court me without your permission." I did not bother to mention that advances had been made and welcomed. I simply wanted to put a stop to things before they progressed. I had no desire to be Georgie Campbell's toy.

"I would wish to see my son happy, but it would be advantageous to marry for an alliance. You are obviously well educated, and would be an asset to him and our family, but marriage is not a frivolous matter." Lord George looked at me, do you see the point I'm making, his expression said.

"Marriage should never be a frivolous matter," I replied, "My mother and father knew exactly what they were doing, in spite of the difference in families. Hers was a merchant family that had ties that went back to Burgundy, he was a humble fisherman, but a man of the sea. After they married my father took charge of my grandfather's fleet, and cut back the number of ships lost. He had no family connections, but he increased the wealth of my grandfather and the family. Even royals marry commoners—I believe "manurering the field" is the vulgar term.

"If he wants to marry me, I want to marry him," My god, was I really saying this? "But I don't want to marry him without your blessing. If you don't want me here, please help me get back to Inverness where he found me. I am ready to leave if you wish. I don't wish to cause trouble, and hope that I haven't."

"Actually, my dear," Adam smiled, "You aren't objectionable, far from it. Georgie is rather insistent that you are the only one he intends to marry, and frankly you seem like a good match for the boy. We've never seen him this serious about a woman, and certainly he's never voiced any intention of marrying anyone. We'd like to give this some thought, but frankly neither my brother nor I see any reason to object. He's a bit of a womanizer, and I'd welcome the opportunity to see that changed."

I thanked them and left. Not the response I had anticipated. I was physically attracted to young Campbell, I had had a taste of what our marriage bed would be like, and it would be very satisfying. Our age difference didn't seem to be an obstacle to our compatibility, he was very handsome, and I found that I liked the person behind that engaging smile.

But I had a life, one I had worked hard for and would lose if I stayed here. I liked being Dr. Bogdashevskaya. I liked my little house in Luxor, working on the digs every season. I even loved Egypt, "the gift of the Nile." And I loved teaching my students, no one takes archaeology unless they are truly interested in it.

But I had been lonely. I was busy, I had friends, but since I had broken off my relationship (with good reason) with Robbie, there had been no one. All Georgie had to do was touch me, and I felt it all over. He was sexually precocious, very sure of himself—I'd had much older lovers who hadn't been nearly as satisfying as that cock sure of himself twenty year old.

"Admit it," I said to myself, "You want him as badly as he wants you. You've just been hurt, you don't trust him. Maybe it's with good reason, maybe it's only you, but you're afraid of him."

Suddenly he stood in the doorway. He came into my room shutting and locking the door behind him.

"Take off your clothes," he was already starting to remove his—and smiling.

"What, did they say yes?" They couldn't have given consent, could they?

He came over to me and turned me around. "I forgot you might need help with your laces." He began to untie the laces on my bodice, his mouth found my neck and I shivered. "I have a better idea," he whispered, "I'll take your clothes off—My Lady Campbell."

Soon my clothes were lying in a pile around my feet. Georgie took hold of my hand and slid an exquisite ruby ring on the third finger. It was beautiful—and old. The ruby was the size of my little fingernail, and was set with a small diamond on either side.

"It's beautiful," I breathed, "Where did it come from?

"It was my grandmother's. My grandfather purchased it from the finest jeweler in London.

He took hold of my hand and kissed it. "I, George Campbell, do plight thee my troth."

"I, Irina Victoria Bogdashevskaya, do plight thee my troth." I guessed that was the correct response.

He smiled, "We're as good as married now, all that's left is for the marriage contract to be drawn up and signed. So, when do you want your wedding ceremony to take place, Mrs. Campbell?" He picked me up and carried me to the bed.

"I'm not Mrs. Campbell, yet," I said, annoyed, "The day after Boxing Day would do. That's enough time to have a dress or two made, I think." I turned on my side and smiled at him.

"Yes, women place great store in that sort of thing, don't they? My aunt is probably planning your trousseau right now. So, you want to have our festivities when everyone is celebrating the Christmas holidays." He stripped off the rest of his clothes and pulled me close.

"Yes. I want to get married before everything grows cold and dark. Why not get married when we can really celebrate it? That's two months before Lent. Do you think we can find a church and a priest who can perform the ceremony for us?"

"If we can't, father and uncle can buy one for us. We can even go to London if you like, I'm sure that some of the family could come. Or Edinburgh, it's closer to home. Ask my aunt, she's very resourceful. If you let her plan your wedding, you won't have to worry about anything."

Which didn't seem like a bad idea. I felt like I was caught in a whirlwind, I'd lost control the day Georgie took me from place of the sacred stones. I let the heart of the whirlwind itself entwine me in his arms and make love to me while he whispered endearments into my ear. What had I gotten myself into?


	6. Winter

I have not worked on this for the past month. First my mother had a stroke, then she died a few weeks later. It is, after all, to be expected when your mother is 90, but that did not make things any easier to deal with. Apologies.

This chapter seems to be about Irina reflecting on her situation and what, if anything, is to be done about it.

I had naively supposed that an engagement was an engagement. It was feeling more like the establishment of a treaty between two foreign powers.

I'm an Egyptologist, I know all about dynastic unions, but had never been involved in one, especially where I was one of the parties.

Take the dowry, for example. I am not rich, but you could say I'm comfortably well off. I own houses in Chicago and Luxor. My brokerage account has recovered from the recession and is back to six figures. I make a very good salary at the university, I also teach part time at the American University in Cairo, I do speaking engagements, and have done one television special. I am not a well-known face, but I am respected in my field.

Here this means nothing. Even if I could get to my money, it would be worthless. In the eyes of Georgie's family, I am educated, yet penniless. I would be worth only so much as I would have been able to sell from my last dig. So, for them, they are being generous and allowing him to marry a pauper, which in reality I'm not.

The marriage contract is a strange affair. Given my financial straits, Georgie has insisted that a generous sum be made available to me if he dies. An extra sum is added to that for each child I bear that survives infancy. Though it feels like no more than a business proposition, I am grateful that he is looking out for me. If I were widowed, I could be left desolate and at the mercy of his family. As it is, I will be financially independent and can go anywhere I like.

I have acquired a body guard and two maids, none of which I want-I think I've been assigned babysitters. I am insisting on staying in my room until my marriage—there is no sense in moving me to a fancier one. If Georgie insists on seeing me at night, let him climb up to the third floor. I am comfortable where I am.

There is a flurry of dress and shoe making going on. I'm happy with the homespun and wool I've been wearing, and my lady's old gowns. My Doc Martins are probably better made and more comfortable than any cobbler could produce, but I'm stuck. I'm going to be the young laird's lady and must keep up appearances.

The feminine part of me is enjoying the dress making, for the fabrics if nothing else. My wedding dress is a confection of silver and white brocade, lined with white fur. There's quilted petticoats for warmth made of silk, and my stockings and shoes are white and silver. There are dresses for formal occasions and dresses of wool and linen for everyday. I have even had a cherry red silk dress made because Georgie loves the color on me, and I must admit that it flatters my hair and skin.

Though I don't want to think about it, I know that I will go straight to the standing stone at Inverness if something does happen to him. I have no idea how time will be affected, but I want to try to go home if something does happen to him. I do not belong here, but I am in love with a boy who is on the verge of manhood who has somehow won my heart. I must stay here for a while, but I don't think about things yet. When I get too scared, I think about Georgie.

Jamie must be gone, I have not seen him since he said goodbye to me in the tack room. I put Himself on the lunge line every day, despite his objections he basically behaves himself. It's a shame they quit riding him, he would be quite a nice horse. With luck, maybe I'll be able to make him rideable again, and ride him a little every day just to exercise him, like they do at breeding farms.

Georgie seems determined to get me pregnant, but I'm not, not for lack of trying. So far I'm not worried, there are no barren women on either side of my family that I know of. I don't know if coming through the portal affected me, but my body seems normal. Call me old fashioned, but I'd rather get pregnant after my wedding, not before. And somehow I have faith that it will happen. I feel rather serenely about that, and I don't consider myself an overly intuitive person.

It's growing colder, getting too cold and rainy sometimes to ride in the morning. Georgie told me that they get some snow, but since they're down in the valley they experience less of it. I don't like not being able to ride, it helps to relieve the tension. I don't like being housebound, it's too easy to fixate upon my situation and my inability to do anything about it. With each day that passes I realize more and more just how badly I want to go home.

I present a happy face for Georgie and my kind hosts, soon to be family, but inside I am screaming. I am grateful to have found someone I seem so completely compatible with. He may be young, but he's wise beyond his years. He's handsome, he's funny, he's kind, he's intelligent. In bed he takes me places I never thought I could go—which comes as a surprise. When we're alone, we talk and talk. He's so easy to talk to that I wish I could tell him my secret. Maybe he'd decide he didn't want to marry me after all, and take me back to the standing stone outside Inverness instead.

Or not.

Georgie tells me that if it's a bad winter, the raiding will slow down and it will be a little less dangerous for a while. That still does not preclude my riding on my own, or riding at all for that matter. Since riding for pleasure is out of the question for now, I go and help in the stables. I don't mind mucking stalls, I never did. I know how to look for symptoms of illnesses, can help treat colic. I've assisted at delivery of foals, and I know signs of mares in labor. Thank god for the stable and the library.

We've had two solid weeks of bad weather, and it's finally clearing a little—maybe for a day. News comes in that a raiding party has been seen, whether it's the Jacobites or just cattle raiders, no one knows. Security is tightened in the chateau, and guards have been doubled at doors and gates. If I wanted to slip out now with a horse, I wouldn't be able to do it. Georgie takes pleasure in knowing how frustrated and angry I am. He teases me, trying to cheer me up, but I snap at him and shut him out of my room.

Then I hit upon a plan, and wonder why I didn't think of it before. Why try to slip out on my own, why not disguise myself and ride out in a group? No one will notice my jeans and Doc Martins if I can find the right coat and a hat to cover my hair. I'm tall, five foot eight, and I'm as tall as some of the men—Georgie is just five ten as far as I can tell. I'll wrap my scarf around my neck so that it muffles part of my chin. I'll ride at the back so hopefully no one will pay attention to me. This might just work, if I can find the right coat to complete my disguise.

The only problem is the weather is too bad for me to ride all the way to Inverness. It's way too cold and rainy. If I did manage it, I would be half dead from pneumonia, and my horse wouldn't be in much better shape. If I am to make my escape, I must do it when the weather warms in the late spring. My only chance was to leave just after I got here, but I was more closely watched then than I am now. I hope that I won't get pregnant—God forgive me for saying that, but it's true. And I can no more resist Georgie than I can resist breathing.

I pull on my coat and scarf and head to the stables. The mud is cupping around my boots so I can't lunge Himself today. I decide to try something else, as opposed to going back into the house. I can sit and read for a while, but I don't knit, or do needlework, or sew-it drives me crazy. I'm a professor, for God's sake, a teacher, only here I can't teach. I can train horses, though.

I go into the barn and look around, then find what I'm looking for. There's a place where I can tie up Himself, and he'll have a little kicking room. I take him out of the stall, and tie him to a ring in the wall, then go look for a saddle blanket, one that's got some weight that he'll feel.

He's not happy about being tethered so closely to the wall but he'll live. Carefully I lay the blanket on his back. His back trembles, I can tell he's hollowed it, and he's moving his hind quarters and his hooves around, letting me know he's unhappy. I pull off the blanket, and he turns his head and gives me a dirty look.

I laugh at him and tell him that will do him no good. I place the blanket back on his back and he pins back his ears and snorts. I wait and remove the blanket again. He tries to shake his head, but he doesn't have enough space. I honestly expected him to buck the first time, but he may be waiting to do that. I put the blanket on his back and he gets a little hoppy, but though the ears are down they're not pinned. I wonder what would happen if I tried to put a saddle on him. How would he react?

Old Marsters, who's almost a family retainer, comes over; he's been watching what I'm doing. I get some history about this horse I'm in love with. He's thrown a couple of people, but he isn't mean tempered. He's just a lot of trouble to ride, you have to be on your toes and ready for the next trick he'll try. He's a mixture of warmblood and Arabian, hence his lovely grey color. I know Arabians and thoroughbreds well, and some of them are very temperamental, even mean sometimes. Himself isn't mean. He's never tried to bite me, and likes to have his ears scratched. They just gave up on him and used him for stud instead.

I put him back in the stall, and go stand outside. I'm lonely, I want Georgie to come home. I want to go up to my room and make love until it's time for dinner. As if in response, the men ride into the stable yard and Georgie waves to me. He gets down from his bay and comes over and hugs me tight.

"God, am I glad to see you, it was hell today. We found the trail of a group of raiders, and though we tracked them for hours, we couldn't find anything. From now on, if you ride, I'm coming with you. Someone's here, Irina, cattle are missing and a couple of men have been killed. If they find you, they'll kidnap you and hold you for ransom. These are rough men, Irina, and not to be taken lightly."

Being kidnapped does not sound appealing, but I am so bored that it almost seems like a welcome diversion. I say nothing, though, and take him by the hand and lead him to my room. He should probably talk to his father and his uncle, but Colin can do that for him. He doesn't object, even when he says, "I have to talk to father," as I lock the door behind us.

"Later," I reply and he seems perfectly amenable. For the next hour we forget there is any world but my small upstairs room and he seems to lose himself in me. I'm rather lost myself and he's using me hard, making me moan and beg him to take it easy. He shakes his head no and resumes his rough lovemaking until he has to put his hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds of my screams.

I know he wants to get up, he needs to go see his father, but he can't bring himself to leave. He entwines his left hand in mine, and kisses me on the ring, then rubs it, a habit he has. If this were twenty first century America, there might be no wedding. He may be a rogue, but he's still a gentleman, and a gentleman marries the lady he's in love with if he's able. I don't know how hard he had to fight for me, but he clearly intended that I would be his wife and no other. I, on the other hand, have been indifferent to marriage for quite a while. I have, or I had, a rewarding career, something I might have dreamed about when I was young. Now all that is going to change.

He gets up and reluctantly starts putting on his clothes. "I've got to go talk to father, and find out what Colin has told him."

"They're going to know what you've been doing," I teased.

He comes over to the bed and kisses me. "Yes, I'm very well aware of that. I think they let me marry you because they're afraid you're pregnant, or will be soon."

"Which is what you want. Are you afraid I'll leave you? We have lots of time to get me pregnant. I don't want it to happen until after the wedding. Can you imagine the talk if we had a seven or eight month baby?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, darling," he kissed me and left me alone.

I lay in bed for a few more minutes, inhaling his scent. When I finally get up, I wash myself off before donning my clothes. I wonder, not for first time, is this really real? The wonder of falling so deeply in love. The question of whether the reality I'm in is actually real, or is this a dream that I'm dreaming? In mythology, this would be possible, but I was born in the twentieth century, A.D. This is not really possible, is it? If so, where am I?


	7. Trouble Coming

HA! I finally completed this chapter. I'm setting up for the second half here, the fantasy/erotic stuff is the next chapter. Ever since I read the first "Outlander" book, I've wanted to write a version of Clair's punishment of my own. I've picked up a couple of readers' follow and favorites since I posted it. Thank you kindly for liking it!

I undid my braid and brushed my hair, choosing to let it hang loose. I dressed for dinner in my green brocade gown, and headed downstairs to the great hall where Colin found me.

"Aha," he smiled, "Now I know why my cousin was detained."

"Is it that obvious?" I asked quietly.

"Yes, but you look delicious, I envy him." He draped his arms around my neck, his grey eyes staring into mine. "You know, I'll always be there for you if you need me. If anything ever happens to Georgie, I want you to know you can count on me, for whatever you need."

"Yes, thank you, I do appreciate that." I diplomatically withdrew myself from his embrace. As much as Georgie loved him like a brother, as kind as he always is to me, something about Colin Campbell made me nervous. I have no reason to dislike him, but sometimes he seemed too friendly, too eager to be of help. He and Georgie are close, spend much of their time together (when Georgie isn't devoting himself to me), have grown up together. They are brothers in all but fact.

In spite of this, however, Colin, no matter how well intentioned he seemed, scares me just a little.

Then men were out on the hunt the next day to try to catch the phantom raiders, which left me at home, idle once again. I decided to relieve my boredom by putting a saddle on Himself. The stallion was used to me, accepted the carrot I brought for him and did not fight me when I put him on the lead. I tied him to the ring in the wall, only giving him a little more head, then went to get the saddle.

I looked at the saddle I held in my hands, wishing it was western style, but I am going to half to make do. If I get brave enough to get on his back, I won't have the familiar saddle horn to hold onto.

Holding the saddle I go up to him, speaking in soothing tones, and set it on his back. Maybe he couldn't get his head low enough to buck, but he wasn't fighting it. I removed the saddle, then retrieved the blanket I used yesterday and placed both on his back, cinching them up just tightly enough to keep him from throwing it off his back. I held my breath, waiting to see what would happen.

Nothing, nothing was what was happening, but this horse was not stupid. I'd expected him to tremble, do something, but he just stood there. Feeling brave, I unhitched him from the wall and began to lead him down the walkway.

I should have known it was too good to be true, he began to buck in earnest, letting me know how unhappy he was about the saddle on his back. I stood and held onto the lead, not reacting. When he quit, I put him in his stall and removed the saddle.

I shut the stall door and we looked at each other. "We will get along just fine," his look clearly said, "When you give up this silly notion of trying to turn me back into a saddle horse."

"Very well," I answered, "I think that you may be better behaved than you let on. I'll have to think about this. For now, lesson one is completed." I put the saddle in the tack room, and sighed. This had taken up too little of my time. I wanted to ride, but Birdie had kicked herself in her stall, and had gone lame. I am sure there were other horses I could ride, but Marsters had gone with the search party and there was no one to help me out. The barn would be deserted until the men were gone. Maybe if I asked Georgie nicely, he would take me riding tomorrow, even if it meant a break from cow thief hunting.

I headed back to the house, bored to tears. I was met by Mrs. Simms who informed me that the seamstress was here for final fittings on the dresses that had been made for me. I spent over an hour trying on dresses, petticoats, nightgowns, and my wedding gown to make sure they fit, and was as pleasant as I could be as the women of the chateau fussed over me.

I was grateful when I could make my escape outside. The chateau was big, but I still felt trapped within its walls. I needed to ride and felt I could not wait any longer.

I went into the barn and began to look at horses. Birdie and Himself were out of the question. All I needed was a healthy horse that could be controlled by any rider. I could eliminate any horse that had foot problems, but the rest? I sighed, realizing that I had too much of a conscience to just take a horse when I didn't know who it belonged to.

All right, I would walk then. The one place I knew I could find was the barrow. If I didn't get all the way and had to turn around and go back, that was fine. This was the nicest day we'd had in two weeks. There were no rain clouds in the sky, for a change, and the ground had dried up a bit. I'd just avoid the places where the search parties had ridden and stay away from the mud. I'd be back before Georgie got back, I reckoned. Time enough for a good walk to tire me out and calm my nerves. Georgie had said I couldn't ride without him, he'd said nothing about walking.

That was splitting hairs and I knew it, but I looked longingly at the people going to and from the chateau. They were free and I wasn't. Finally I couldn't stand it. I turned away from the great double doors of the chateau and took the first steps that would lead me out onto the road.

I mingled with the people making their way to and from the great house. Merchants, traders, soldiers. If anyone were to see me, they would pay no notice, I was just another nameless face in a crowd.

They didn't seem afraid of danger, why should I? Maybe Georgie had exaggerated the threat to keep me under his watchful eye. All I knew was that with each step I grew braver, each breath I took seemed deeper, allowing more oxygen into my lungs. My steps seemed to get lighter and lighter. The unseen wall that had surrounded me was overthrown and I was free. I hadn't realized how confined I had felt. Even going outside to lunge Himself no longer seemed freeing. For the first time in days I was truly on my own.

I turned onto a side road that would take me up the hill to the barrow, and found myself on my own. Heaven. No sound except for the occasional call of a bird. I rejoiced in the almost preternatural stillness. There was even an eerie blue sky above me, an almost glorious shade of blue in a country that was not known for such skies.

I continued my trek up the hill, wondering again why the mound had been hidden. I hadn't really done as much of a survey of the stones outside Inverness as I'd liked, but I hadn't seen any signs of gateway stones to signal the arrival of an equinox or solstice. The barrow had two stones that probably would outline the rising sun on the winter or summer solstice. It was possible that the barrow could have been a place of worship. I hadn't had a chance to explore the site, so I didn't know what else was there, if anything.

And then I heard a sound, and I knew what that sound was. I had practically grown up around horses. I paused, listened, and heard it again. The jingling of brides, the snorting of horses, and the voices of men…

What were men doing here? It was as sacrilegious as it had been at Inverness. Someone was camped here, or they were hiding here. I don't who they are but I am taking no chances. I have not seen them, yet, so hopefully they have not seen me. I turn around with the intention of returning to the main road, and going home.

"Not so fast, lass." I turn around and two of them are behind me. My heart sank inwardly, am I even going to be able to make my way back home? I contemplated running, but they're on horseback—I won't get far. I decided to stay where I was and raised my hands to indicate that I would not try to run, or fight. The fight part may come later if I have a chance. No matter what color your karate belt, it's no defense against a gun—or men on horseback.

I turned around and looked at them. These were the "rough men" that Georgie had spoken of. They had hard, tired faces. Their horses looked haggard, like they had been ridden for too many days and not enough rest. And they looked in bad need of oats. It's a crime to wear out horses like that.

The men looked strangely alike, long stringy hair, shaggy beards, even their hunting kilts looked identical. One rode a little closer, then began to address me in Gaelic, which of course I can neither speak nor understand.

"I speak Russian, French, and English," I said, speaking in the latter, "I doubt you speak Russian, you may or may not speak French, but English would probably be the best choice." I wanted to add, "If you speak it, that is," but decided not to provoke hostilities. I would be the most cooperative of hostages.

"May I put my arms down, it's really not very comfortable. I don't have any weapons and it would be stupid to try to run" I also had this uncontrollable urge to say, "Take me to your leader", and had to keep from laughing from hysteria.

It's not like I wasn't scared, I was terrified, but this was not a new situation for me. I've had guns pulled on me, been taken hostage, and have had to talk myself out of a very bad situation more than once. We usually have armed guards on our dig sites now, it's nothing new for archaeologists to find themselves in dangerous situations. We get threatened by looters, by villagers and petty local officials. We disavow Indiana Jones, but his situations can be eerily similar to ones we find ourselves in sometimes.

One of the men pulled me up on his horse, and I sat quietly behind him while we rode to their camp. Don't panic, I told myself, you've done this before. If you can't get away sooner, then try for later.

There was more to this site than I knew about. There was a large cave, and they'd made camp in it. Unusual to see a cave, but I'm sure someone had made use of it in the past. Maybe it had been a dwelling, maybe mined for flint, maybe it had been a tomb. Whatever its past, it provided shelter from the wind that blew in the hills. A fire had been lit, evidently whoever these people were, they weren't worried.

Someone came out of the cave, and I recognized the tall, lanky form immediately. Our eyes met, but we gave no indication of recognition, except that he nodded his head slightly. Jamie! Whatever would follow, I knew I could count on him to help me. I was scared, but not so much as I was, I knew I had someone on my side.

"What did ye find there, Angus? Looks like a fairy queen to me."

"She was wandering around on her own, so Murtagh and I decided to bring her to Dougal and see what he thinks. Maybe he'll hold her for ransom, we could use the siller."

"Don't know if we have time for that, it's time to be getting on home. I don't think Dougal wants to spend the winter chasing cows when he could be in the warmth of his own home. I, for one, want to be at Lallybroch, or Leoch before it gets much colder. Maybe he'll just find out what she knows and send her home, we'll be well on our way back by then."

"Ah, but she's a Campbell, or under their protection. Maybe they won't object to buying her back from us."

You're going to be disappointed, I'm not a Campbell, not yet. I'm their son's betrothed. Maybe they'd pay a ransom, but I'm willing to bet they'd rather send out a large search party as soon as they know I'm gone, and try to wipe you out. I don't want that to happen, so I've got to try to get away—soon.

"I'll take her to Dougal," Jamie volunteered, and took my arm. The firmness of his grip was reassuring, I felt safe, like he was my shield from the others. If only they knew.

The man he presented me to was not so tall as him, but he had a straight up, military bearing. He must have been about fifteen or twenty years older than me, he had an abundance of salt and pepper hair, but it was thinning at the temples. He made up for it with his beard. It was not too long, but full, and I'd be willing to be he kept it trimmed when he was not on the road. He was handsome and must have even been more so when he was young. And he looked like he was nobody's fool.

"What's your name, girl?" The rich, deep voice went with the face, a nice voice, I had to admit.

"Irina Bogdashevskaya," again I emphasized the Russian. I've inherited some of my father's Slavic looks, I'm told I look Russian. My name probably sounded strange to his ears, but it would have matched the rest of me.

"What kind of name is that?" A question, not meant as hostile, an honest question.

"My father was Russian, and my mother Belgian. It's a good Russian name. Don't you ever get any Russian fishermen up here? My father was a fisherman, but quit when he married my mother.

Good, I may have piqued his curiosity.

"Not many," he admitted, "But what are you doing here? Scotland is at war, and that means you're not safe."

"I'm visiting with the Campbells. I came to study the barrow and the menhir. I plan on going home in the spring. I'm going to visit my mother in Belgium, then I'm going to Luxor where I have a house."

The look of concentration let me know that he was struggling to believe me. I have a house in Luxor, two hundred years in the future. My mother is dead, no, she hasn't even been born yet. Everything thing I'm saying is technically true. I'm probably his first encounter with an archaeologist, there hasn't been much done yet in the British Isles—everyone is interested in Greece, Rome, and Egypt. Champollion has not yet been born, so though I can read hieroglyphics, they've not officially been translated yet. I wonder if I could get credit?

"A lie is best hidden between two truths." In 2013 I work for the University of Chicago. Chicago does not yet exist. My little house in Luxor, built on the ruins of an old Roman house with the little fountain in back and the courtyard well shaded with trees, doesn't exist yet, either. I know several people in the archaeology community, none of whom have been born. I hold a doctorate, I bet none of these people have been to University, but it's the times. I have to convince Dougal I'm not worth bothering with, or at least he needs to think it over. I bet he's hungry and tired, and would like to bed down and rest for the night, then be on his way home.

"Please," I've faced angry tribesmen before, and I'm sure he's no less deadly, but he's a child of the Age of Reason and not a fanatic, "Look, I'm guessing you're Jacobites. I can sympathize with your cause, I can and I do. England fancies itself the next Rome. I don't believe that one country has the right to subjugate another. I have no interest in betraying you to my hosts, no reason to want to. All I want to do is go back, have a hot bath, my dinner, then go to bed. Please, just let me go. I'm not a Campbell asset, I'm just a visitor who's stumbled onto something I wasn't meant to see. Please, just let me go."

There's a lot going on behind Dougal's brown eyes. I don't think he's an unkind man, but the rebellion is business. If he thinks he can get something out of holding me for ransom, he will. He could just as easily decide that I have no value as a captive, and let me go.

"I'd like to believe you, lass, I truly would, but I canna be too careful. It's best if we take ye with us, and we can sort it out when we get home. If you have no value to the Campbells, then we can let you go."

"And how am I to get back? It's a long ride between the Campbell lands and McKensie territory. It's better if you just let me go—or are you going to be willing to provide me with money and an escort back?"

Dougal smiled, "We'll sort it out later. Maybe you're more valuable to the Campbells than you thought. Jamie, you take charge of her, make sure she doesn't try to run, I wouldna put it past this one."

Jamie took me by the arm and led me away. When we were out of earshot I whispered to him, "How am I going to get out of here?"

"I'm thinking," he answered, "In the meantime, just keep doing what you're doing. I dinna think he expected a captive to be as courteous as ye were. If you keep on being cooperative, then I can get ye away all the easier because they may not watch you so carefully. I don't think I can get ye away until the wee hours of the morning. By that time the guards will be tired and they may fall asleep. I'll steal a horse and take you back."

He led me to a deep pile of bracken close to the fire. Wrapping my fur lined cloak around me, I suddenly realized just how tired I was.

He sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. "Here, drink some of this," he handed me a flask and I took it gratefully. I took a good, long drink of the traditional Scottish whisky. Not as smooth as a modern distilled whisky, but it had a rich peaty taste that went down nicely. I took another, savoring the warmth.

He laughed as he took his flask back. "I forgot how much you like your whisky. Dougal would have been impressed."

"Or thought I was a drunk. Are you really on your way back home?"

"Aye," this was a last raid before winter set in. There'll be some who keep it up through the winter, but not Dougal. The men are tired, we're ready to settle in until the weather changes. The men with families will want to keep the Christmas feast, and New Year's. Then spring will come and it will be time to start raiding again. Say," he looked at me, "Are you married yet?"

"No, the day after Boxing Day. I wanted to get married while the festivities were going on. Lots of parties, celebrations. Georgie and I can greet the New Year as man and wife. I kind of liked the thought of that. If you can find a way to, you should come." We both laughed at the absurdity of that.

Someone had shot a fat young doe and they cooked it on a spit. Between the whisky and the food, I began to grow sleepy. Jamie put an arm around me and I rested against his broad shoulder. Oh, Jamie, I thought, if it weren't for Georgie, I'd be doing my damndest to seduce you. I wanted to kiss him very badly. There were plenty of places where we could hide for a few hours and no one need know. Except that I would know, and I'd not be able to face Georgie.

I don't know when I fell asleep, all I was aware of was Jamie putting his big hand over my mouth and whispering, "Come on." He led me down a hidden path to the avenue, where, tied to the juniper tree was a horse. He undid the reins, saying in a voice so quiet I could barely hear, "We need to walk until we're a bit further away, then we can ride. I'll take you to the chateau gates, and leave you. It should be a while before they know you are gone, and that should give us a good head start. There may even be a search party looking for you by that time."

We mounted up at the end of the avenue. Jamie took the horse at a walk, then gradually increased to a jog, then a slow easy gallop. I kept looking anxiously over my shoulder, but as no riders seemed to be coming, I let myself relax for a while, enjoying the feeling, as I always did, of being on horseback.

It looked like we were going to succeed. I watched as dawn rose, as the sun came up, but still no riders followed us. It was not so far to Chateau La Mere now. Jamie could drop me off at any time and I could walk the rest of the way. We'd done it. He could go back to the camp now and face the wrath of Dougal, and I would have to face Georgie.


	8. Paying the Piper

This is my erotic/fantasy and yes, spanking chapter. I've wanted to write this ever since I read the first book "Outlander". I wasn't quite satisfied with the way it went, hence my version. I had fun doing it, and oh, wicked me, decided to publish it. This is the first time I've every published something explicit. Kinda makes me want to write more of it. If you like it, please let me know.

We mounted up at the end of the avenue. Jamie took the horse at a walk, then gradually increased to a jog, then a slow easy gallop. I kept looking anxiously over my shoulder, but as no riders seemed to be coming, I let myself relax for a while, enjoying the feeling, as I always did, of being on horseback.

It looked like we were going to succeed. I watched as dawn rose, as the sun came up, but still no riders followed us. It was not so far to Chateau La Mere now. Jamie could drop me off at any time and I could walk the rest of the way. We'd done it. He could go back to the camp now and face the wrath of Dougal, and I would have to face Georgie.

I had given into over confidence. The sound was faint at first, but soon it was plain what I was hearing. Horses, horses galloping behind us. They had discovered we were gone before we expected them to. Now they were trying to catch us to us, reclaim their captive and take their vengeance on Jamie.

"Behind us, Jamie," I told him.

"Aye," he replied, "and before us, too." I looked up to see a group of horsemen riding from the chateau, Georgie and Colin at the head.

Damn, we'd ridden into a trap. Not an intentional one, I'm sure the MacKensies had not expected to run into the Campbells. He had no choice but to pull the horse up and wait. We looked at each other, resigned to our fate.

Georgie reached us first. "Irina, are you all right?" A look of both anger and fear was on his handsome face.

"I'm fine, this man was just bringing me back home. He helped me, do you understand?"

"Aye, so I do. Now you can get off that horse and mount up behind me."

"Fine." Bastard, I muttered to myself, but I obediently put my foot in the stirrup he offered me, and swung up behind him on his hunter.

"Jamie Fraser, is it?" Jamie nodded in acknowledgment, "Is it true what she says, you helped her escape."

"Aye," answered Jamie, "And I'll suffer for doing it."

"Then stay here with the loyal king's men, and you won't have to. We're the winning side, Fraser, you Jacobites are going to lose. You're outgunned and outnumbered. England will help make Scotland stable and prosperous. And I can have the bounty removed from your head, you'll no longer be a wanted man. You can go back to your farm and no longer have to live in fear."

"I've betrayed my clan enough as it is. I was glad to be able to help your lady, but now it's time for me to face the consequences of what I've done. I thank you for your generous offer, but I have to decline."

"You're a fool, Fraser, loyal to the wrong cause. I wish you luck then, you'll need it."

He turned his horse around to meet the MacKensies who had finally caught up to us. I saw him arguing furiously with Dougal, then they turned around and headed back down the road. He turned and waved to me, and I lifted my hand and waved back.

"Well, Irina, your rescuer was brave but stupid. I wonder if those Jacobites really know what they're getting into?"

"I don't think they'd believe it, even if you told them. They're dooming themselves and they won't even admit it."

He turned his horse around and we rode back to the chateau.

I didn't want to go upstairs with him, I didn't want to be anywhere near him. He had a strange, angry look on his face and I couldn't help remembering his words, "I'll turn you over my knee." I hadn't been spanked since I was a little girl and I intended to keep it that way.

I was not going to have a choice in the matter. He came up behind me and whispered, "You can go upstairs on your own, or I can drag you up there, it's your choice." I chose to go up the stairs on my own, but I could hear the ominous sound of his footsteps behind me. This was not going to go well.

He locked door behind him, and put the key carefully in his pocket. He looked at me not saying anything, then the words, "Take off your clothes," came out of his mouth.

"What?" I demanded, "What makes you think…" He took a step towards me, and I gave him a dirty look and started to undo my laces. He grabbed my arm and began to undo them himself. He unlaced and removed my bodice, took off my skirt and petticoats, and for a reason known only to him took off my shoes but left my stockings.

He kept his grip on my arm. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been? Scotland, the Highlands—it's a very dangerous place right now. They could have held you for ransom or worse. There's some chieftains that would have sold you, knowing that your blond hair would bring a fine price. Or they could have raped you—and even all of your fancy fighting tricks would have done you no good.

"But Jamie would have protected me, or at least tried," I thought. Dougal MacKensie had seemed like a gentleman. And I'd been on my best behavior, I'd done nothing to provoke my captors, on the contrary, I'd been very careful. And Jamie had come to my rescue, he'd gotten me away and I truly believed he would have gotten me safely back to Chateau La Mere, but I said nothing of this to Georgie.

"Now, what did I tell you about going off alone?" The young face suddenly did not look so young. If I had ever thought that I could rule him, I realized, by that look alone, I was sorely mistaken. Twenty he might be, his maturity stretched far beyond his twenty years.

"You didn't tell me anything," I said sullenly. Of course I remembered what he told me.

"So now you're going to become a liar, Irina? That doesn't flatter you. You know what I said and I meant it. I'm going to turn you over my knee and spank your bare bum-hard. If you're going to disobey me, you are going to pay the price."

Still maintaining his grip on my arm, he went over to the bed and sat on it. He pulled me unceremoniously over his knee, place a hand on my bum for the briefest moment, then raised it and brought it down, hard. I jerked, not wanting to, but the surprise of the pain made me start up. He began to smack me hard, made no pretense of being gentle, or sorry-this was meant to hurt.

I clenched my teeth and buried my face in the coverlet. I could keep myself from crying out, but I could not stop the tears pouring down my cheek. The hand knew how to make it hurt, knew places that were sensitive and sought them out. His hand found its way down my thighs, then moved back up to my bum again.

And it hurt. He didn't need a belt, or a paddle, or a strap, his hand was hard and merciless. I was squirming around on his lap, mortified at how it must look, trying in vain to escape, but it did me no good. All I could do was to lie there and submit, hating him for what he was doing, hating myself that I'd put myself in this position.

It seemed to go on for a good long time. His hands knew how to seek out places that were sensitive, and when his hands found them the pain increased. All I wanted now was for him to please please stop, but I wouldn't say it. I wouldn't bargain and I wouldn't beg.

At last, he did stop, but when I tried to get up he held me down. His hand lightly caressed all the places it had spanked, then slid up between my thighs, and made its way between my legs. His fingers began to tease me and my traitorous body was actually responding.

He laid me face down across the bed, then fumbled with his pants and pushed them down. When he pushed himself into me my body wanted him, desperately, even as I hated both him and myself for feeling the way I did. And I hated even more that I responded to his insistent lovemaking, instead of struggling or trying to escape him.

When he, when we, finished, he pulled me onto the bed and held me close. I tried to struggle away from him, but his strength always surprised me. I didn't give up though, and no matter how hard I tried to free myself, he overwhelmed me.

"Stop that," he said, "You knew what you were doing and look what happened. I told you not to leave here on your own, but you wouldn't listen. It's dangerous here, Irina, very dangerous, how hard are you going to make it for me to protect you? You're smart, and what's more, you possess a great deal of sense—so why did you do it?

I told him the truth, "Because I feel like an animal in a cage. I'm always surrounded by people and I crave solitude. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I watched as people came in and out, so I took my chance and made my escape. All I wanted was a few hours by myself, by myself, with no one around. I wanted to hear nothing but silence, and I almost had it."

He kissed the side of my head, "So you risked a spanking for a few hours of peace and quiet? I guess I should have taken that into account." He chuckled and pulled me close—I didn't resist, much. "You should tell me these things, let me know so I can fix it for you."

"I tried, but you didn't seem to be listening. You were paying more attention to family business than me. You keep assuming I'm like the other women here, and I'm not."

"No," he agreed, "You're not, but until we can work things out you need to learn to be patient. Otherwise, you're going to find yourself turned over my knee more often than you'd like, though I don't think I'd mind that at all. I'd rather enjoy it to speak the truth." He leaned over me so I could see his face—and the devilish smile that graced it.

"You better keep me restrained, or I'll hit or kick you, whichever is more convenient."

He laughed at the look on my face. "Oh, Irina, you want to hear me say there'll be no more spankings, but that's not the case. When you misbehave, you're going to wind up over my knee, and believe me, I'm hoping you misbehave often."

"Why the hell don't I hate you for this? It's the least of what you deserve, you know. I should shut you out of my bed until you apologize and agree to change your ways."

"It's not going to happen, my little Russian lassie. Just shut up, and let's sleep until dinner. You're so warm and inviting, I don't want to leave your bed."

I wasn't going to win this argument. Sometimes well fucked is as good as well loved. While he was raining blows down on my bum, I was swearing we were over for good. Now, if I was going to be honest with myself, I realized that I didn't want him gone, I wanted him as much as he wanted me. I survived a spanking, I could do it again. And there was that small, secret part of me that had wanted to submit to him—I just had to be careful to keep it in check.


	9. Yuletide

I don't understand why I have only 6 reviews for this story. In a way, it's a cheat, because the "Outlander" characters have outside roles, as opposed to central ones. Well, I don't like Claire-as far as I am concerned, she's an idiot. Jamie, I like, but I didn't want to pair him up with anyone who isn't Claire-maybe I'll change my mind. I just couldn't resist pairing a story of my own with a fan fiction story, like I did with my "Originals" story-someday I do intend to work on that some more. I don't know why "The Devil's God Daughter," my Dracula story got so much attention as I don't think it's my best writing. Of all the things that I've written, I believe that my "the Courting of Corky Corcoran", my Copper story, is actually the best and I encourage you to check it out. I don't think it got the attention it deserved, tho there are 20 reviews that have accumulated since I posted it in 2013.

Well, on with the show, as they say.

Autumn was fading into winter, and I began to wish I was back home. It was grey, wet, bleak, something out of "Wuthering Heights". I expected any moment to see Cathy's ghost peering into my window, looking for her lost Heathcliff.

Fires were lit in every fireplace in an attempt to warm the interior of Chateau La Mere. Mrs. Simms even burned an excessive number of candles in an attempt to fight back the winter gloom. At night, the fire and the candles lent the chateau a coziness that was missing during the day. The minute the early evening sun began to set, the candles were lit and seemed to dispel the gloom that pervaded the chateau during the day.

December heralded the arrival of Yuletide, and the chateau made ready to celebrate Christmas. The Campbells were no grim Presbyterians or Calvinists; but like their English allies, they were devout Anglicans and celebrated Christmas. Holly appeared from somewhere, and bouquets of yew berries were set about in vases. Banners were hung and ribbons twined around the staircase bannisters. It was nothing like Christmas at home, Christmas trees would not appear for a few centuries, but the efforts to cheer up the castle were not in vain. It began to take on an almost cheerful look, as if to spite the weather.

One morning I looked outside and saw that it had begun to snow. The Campbell lands were not as far north as the MacKensies, but they were far enough that the moon and sun seemed smaller than what I was used to. Georgie informed me that we would be getting snow, but a blizzard or severe storm was unlikely. It was pretty, though, pretty enough for a picture on a Christmas card.

Wedding preparations intermingled with Yuletide cheer. Supplies seemed to arrive on a daily basis. I didn't know what would be served for the Christmas feast, but a fat young ox was waiting to be slaughtered for the wedding dinner. Perhaps I should have felt guilty about my choice of my wedding date, but the chateau was so full of life, bustling with activity, and the general mood of the inhabitants seemed to be a joyful one. If only I could share it.

A week before my wedding I woke up feeling nauseous. I'd started to sit up, and became dizzy and sick to my stomach, then lay back down and closed my eyes until it passed. The next thing I remembered was Georgie shaking me awake, asking me if I was all right.

"I don't feel too good, I think I'll just sleep." I settled back onto the pillow, "Will you get me some water, please, I'm afraid I'll get sick if I try to stand up." I looked up at him to see him smiling, "What, why are you looking at me like that?"

He put his hand on my belly. "Now, are you going to tell me that you don't know what's wrong with you?" He was smiling so wide he was almost beaming, "Are you going to tell me that I know what's going on and you don't?"

Then, it hit me. The very thing I had been dreading, but was bringing Georgie so much joy.

"I'm pregnant," I said softly, trying to keep the dismay out of my voice.

"And to think you needed me to tell you, but you've never had a child, now have you?' He put his arms around me, held me tight. "I bet your maids know, you just haven't been paying attention."

"Well, I guess we're going to have our eight months' child." I smiled, trying not to betray how I felt. I didn't want a child, even if it was Georgie's child. I never wanted to be a mother. I had, up until now, the perfect life. No husband, no children, work that I loved. Now all of that was going away, all because of a twenty year old Scotsman whom I had fallen in love with, and oh yes, I was in love with him.

"I'll get you some tea and bannocks, that should settle your stomach." He pulled on his trousers and his shirt, then went over to the window and opened it. What he saw made him smile. "Come here, Irina, I have something to show you." He wrapped a quilt around me and led me to the window.

It was snowing, big fat flakes like duck feathers filled the air as they lazily drifted their way to earth. All of the ugliness of the Scottish winter was hidden under a blanket of white. I used to winter in Luxor to avoid the ugliness of winters in Chicago with the traffic jams and the pristine white snow turning to ugly grey. Here the air was pure and clean, and only the hoofprints of someone's horse marred the perfection of the white covering the landscape.

I turned to Georgie, "Can we go out and play as soon as my stomach settles down? It's been so long since I played in the snow."

He looked at me, a strange look on his face, as if I had said something that bothered him. It occurred to me then that someday I would have to reveal who I really was, where I had come from, for I did not want a marriage with secrets. And I didn't know how to do it. When he met me I was dressed in strange clothes, clothes that no one would have worn, for they belonged to a person who lived two hundred years in the future. But I was scared, scared to tell him. And it would be months before he could take me to Inverness so I could show him how I had come to this time and place.

His face relaxed, "If that's what you'd like, go out and get wet and cold when we could stay in here and be warm—of course. Come to think of it, it's been a few years since I've played in snow, myself." He kissed me, then left to fetch me some food.

I wanted to run away, but I couldn't. How could I leave someone so warm and loving? And handsome, I had to admit that. And now I was having his baby, our baby. A new life had started up inside me. I could not take that away from him, and I knew in my heart I could not desert my child.

Tears welled up inside me, and I started crying. I don't cry easily, but I was suddenly overwhelmed. Georgie came into the room and set down a tray with tea, bannocks, and boiled eggs. He came and sat beside me, and put his arms around me.

"What is it about women who're breeding that they cry at the drop of a hat?" he teased, "Whatever could be wrong with you, my Russian lassie?"

"Hormones," I sniffled into his shirt, "Hormones. Get ready for nine months of this. I'll be hormonal while I'm pregnant, then again after I have the baby. Nursing will help, only time will make it stop." I looked up at him, "I don't envy you, you know, having to put up with me. And I'm going to be hideously fat."

"Yes, and you'll look beautiful. Now, why don't you get a start on it and eat your breakfast? Mrs. Simms says that if you get lots of sleep and make sure you eat, it will help your morning sickness." He stood over me like a nursemaid while I ate, sharing the bannocks and tea with me.

The food made me tired, and we went back to bed. We made love, then he got up and got dressed. He kissed me, then I could hear his boots clattering down the stairs. Eventually I went back to sleep, and did not wake up until it was past lunch.

I sat up cautiously, checking to see if the nausea had gone. Instead I felt energized, and threw on my clothes and ran to the stables. I pulled my saddle and bridle from the tack room and saddled Birdie, I led her into the stable yard where six inches of snow had accumulated. She fussed at the feel of the snow around her fetlocks, but the snow was good for her legs, and I took off at a cautious gallop, heading for the road to the ruins.

It was not long after I left that I heard hoof beats behind me. I pulled Birdie up, and Georgie came trotting up on his hunter. "I see I'm going to have to use my sword belt on you the next time, you evidently have a short memory."

"Shut up," I told him, "I felt like riding, come with me."

We rode up the hill to the barrow. I had not been here since the MacKensies abducted me, and it felt odd to be there. The barrow had an odd, mystical feel covered in a white blanket, but the two stones seemed sinister standing side by side, their tops mounded with snow. I wanted very much to be away from there, and turned Birdie and headed down the avenue to the road. Georgie followed, a puzzled look on his face, but he said nothing.

That night I had a dream, no, a nightmare. The men of the household were going boar hunting. I saw them head off, carrying their boar spears, Colin and Georgie leading the way. I watched them as they rode, disappearing into a mist, obscured from my sight. I had a sinking feeling, a premonition. I wanted to run after Georgie, catch up with him, tell him that he was riding into danger, that he must not go hunting—but I was frozen, I could not move.

I watched and watched, waiting for them to return, knowing that some evil was taking place. And, I swear, I swear I saw a boar charging after Georgie, knocking him down, and Colin stood there doing nothing. And then the scene changed and the men were riding home, Colin at their head, and when he reached me he looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, Irina, I'm so sorry, but there was nothing I could do." And then it was I realized that Georgie had been killed—by him, if not directly by his hand.

I screamed, or I must have screamed, because the next thing I remember is Georgie shaking me awake, telling me I was having a nightmare. I looked at him and put my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I could. How could I tell him I had just had a premonition of his death, that he would never live to see his son born, and that his cousin, his best friend, was no true friend, but treacherous and meant to see him dead.

Christmas morning. The servants were in their best. They had all received, from Marsters in the stable to the lowliest scullery girl or boy, presents and small gifts of money. We had attended services, then sat down to a breakfast with ham, eggs, fruit, specially prepared pastries, small ale and large pots off a special Christmas tea. After breakfast we gathered into the main hall, suitably decorated for the occasion, and exchanged gifts.

I received a beautiful ruby necklace and earrings from Georgie that had once belonged to his mother. He fastened the necklace around my neck, telling how well it went with my red velvet gown. From his father I received a pillion saddle, the idea being that I would be safer riding with Georgie than on my own. I wondered how many people in the hall knew of my pregnancy—probably everyone I thought resentfully, for it seemed the servants could not restrain themselves from looking at my belly.

Colin gave me a beautiful black hunter. Of a calmer disposition than Birdie, he assured me, but just as fast, with smooth gaits. I had to look at him through a window, but he was beautiful, taller than Birdie, well built and sleek. I hugged Colin cautiously, letting him know that I loved his present, but pulling away from him as soon as I diplomatically could.

Lord and Lady Campbell presented me with several bolts of beautiful material. I didn't see the need for a large trousseau, but Lady Campbell had looked askance at the scarcity of my wardrobe. Some of this would be made into loose gowns as my pregnancy became advanced and I could no longer fit into my normal wardrobe. Most of these, however, would be made into dresses that would be fitting for the wife of the young laird.

At last, Georgie's uncle and father presented the boys with their gifts. Each of the boys received a set of very fine boar spears. The workmanship was very exquisite, having been ordered from Spain. In addition to a weapon, each was a work of art, the craftsmanship showing in every detail.

Georgie held up one for me to see. "Look Irina, it's beautiful," and as he did so, the details of the dream came back to me with vivid images, and I could see Georgie lying on a bier in the hall, and me left alone with Colin.

Suddenly, I couldn't breathe and everything went black.


	10. A Winter's Tale

Boxing Day. The day before my wedding, our wedding. It was early, still winter dark, when someone began pounding at the door.

"Jesus," muttered Georgie, pulling on his breeches, "who could that possibly be?" He pulled the quilt over my bare shoulders and opened the door, not pleased to be wakened. He looked at me, then stepped outside and shut the door.

I could only hear muffled conversation, and understood none of it. In a few hours we would get up, and start the Boxing Day celebration of waiting on the servants, who did most of their usual chores but members of the household would pretend to attend to their needs. It didn't mean anything, really, but it was a nice custom, which the Campbells entered into wholeheartedly.

These were good people. It was hard to associate them with the Campbells who had conducted the bloody massacre of the MacDonalds at Glen Coe. Decent people, down to earth people. The same people who had fussed over me after I'd fainted yesterday, and would have sent me to bed had I not insisted on remaining in the hall for the rest of the Christmas feast.

Just then Georgie came back into the room and began to get dressed. "Have to go, my darling," he leaned over and kissed me, "They've found tracks in the north, looks like someone is coming to pay us a visit." He cuddled up to me for a moment, kissed my cheek, "I'd rather stay in your bed, but I want no unpleasant surprises on our wedding day." He got up and began to build a fire, adding extra logs to assure it would burn for a long time before I needed to add more wood. I loved the little things like that he did for me.

I sat up, wrapping the covers around me to shield me from the cold. "Who could it be? Is it cattle raiders? What would anybody be doing out in weather like this? Better to stay inside and stay warm." I began to unwrap myself, inviting him to come back to bed.

He smiled at me, "Yes, dear, I'd like to come back to your bed, but I can't. Colin's waiting for me downstairs. It'll be light soon and we'll be able to have a good look at what's going on. The snow leaves excellent tracks; we'll be able to see what direction they've come from and where they're headed. I'll leave your clothes by the fire so they'll be warm when you get dressed." He came over, kissed me again, kissed me deeply, letting me know it was only with great reluctance that he was leaving. Then he left, leaving me alone in the room illuminated by warm firelight.

I thought about my white and silver wedding dress trimmed with white fur, about the new chambers that had been prepared for us that we would not see until we retired on our wedding night. I felt so confused, so out of touch. Georgie had filled a void in my life that I hadn't even known existed. I was expecting my first child; one I expected would certainly be followed by others. I had thought that I did not want children, but I was eager to meet this child, to see if he were like his father—I knew beyond doubt that this would be a son. How had this all happened?

I looked out the window—the snow was falling heavily and showed no signs of letting up. I suddenly was not in the mood for Boxing Day, I wanted to saddle Birdie and see if I could find these cattle raiders for myself. Who would be desperate enough to be out in this weather? It could be Frasers, or even McKensies, but would they be foolish enough to risk facing soldiers from His Majesty's Army who would surely be arriving today for the wedding?

I snuggled back under the covers, thinking. I wanted to know who these strangers were, but even I had enough sense not to try to follow them. The snow was falling thickly, would certainly show no signs of letting up, and maybe the tracks would be hidden soon. I got up and looked out the window. The snow was piling up rapidly; maybe Georgie and Colin would have to call off the search soon.

I wondered if they had a sleigh. I remembered a Christmas in Russia where the snow had fallen so heavily that they brought out the sleigh that had been in the family so long that no one remembered who had originally owned it. There were two horses whose sole purpose was to pull the sleigh in the snow for the delight of family and visitors. I remembered the bells on the harnesses of ours and other families' horses as we sped over the snow covered landscape. And later the gathering in one house where were we drank punch and nibbled on sweets until it was time to go back home.

I rang for my maids, feeling guilty about drawing them away from the festivities, so they could help me with my laces. My dress and petticoats were warm from the fire and I threw a heavy shawl over me for good measure. I had yet to develop the immunity for cold that Scots seemed to possess. Chicago was as cold and raw and Scotland, but I hadn't spent a winter there in many years.

I went downstairs to eat my breakfast—hot bannocks and boiled eggs, washed down with plenty of strong tea. I left the kippers alone; I still had no use for this Scottish delicacy. What I fervently wished for was whisky to wash it down.

The snow was piling up rapidly; at least two inches had fallen since Georgie had awakened me earlier. The flakes were not falling so thickly, but they were coming down steadily and the steel grey sky gave every indication that the snow would not be letting up any time soon. If I had any thoughts of riding I would have to forget them.

Guests were coming, some would be leaving after the party tonight but a few would stay for the wedding tomorrow. The lairds certainly loved to entertain, I'm sure the wedding tomorrow would culminate in a splendid party, one that would be discussed both in Edinburgh and in London. I hadn't realized how high ranking my hosts were. Officers from the garrison would be in attendance, in addition to some officials from London, who would no doubt be glad to see their journey's end, and reach the warmth of the chateau—and the generous cellar their hosts kept.

I was not pleased that Captain Randall would be attending. His insults were still fresh in my mind and I had not forgiven them. He no doubt remembered being flipped unceremoniously over my shoulder, my boot on his neck. Had he not attempted to assault me, nothing would have happened. Why he did so bothered me, especially to a guest in his host's house. And to accuse me of being a mere whore that Georgie and Colin had found. Was he trying to pick a fight, or had the goal been to intimidate me—for reasons only he knew.

That black aura of his disturbed me. My babushka had told me about auras, and warned me of the danger of the person whose aura surrounded them like a black shadow. I could not always see them, but Georgie's was there for me to see, a bright, glowing cheerful green. I could not see Colin's, I did not want to. Jack Randall's, however, was advertising dangers, but I did not know what I could do about it.

Georgie and Colin returned the efforts to discover the origins of the mysterious tracks, but their search had been in vain. Georgie went to his chambers to get dressed, informing me that he had been forbidden to spend the night before our wedding with me. We had to retire to our individual rooms to change our clothes, and both of us regretted the lost opportunity to make love before dinner, as well as not be able to spend the night before our wedding together.

Lady Campbell's maids dressed me in my red velvet gown, my hair braided down my back with red and gold ribbons. I refused to dress my hair in the current upswept style, there was simply too much of it, and I had no intention of cutting any off to accommodate the fashionable chignon or pompador. I hated to see Georgie in a powdered wig, but he was the laird's son and expected to keep up appearances. I, fortunately, was the eccentric bride he had chosen. I was Russian and therefore considered somewhat uncivilized and I took advantage of my situation.

The members of the garrison began to arrive, alone with their porters and baggage. The commander was quite taken with me, "My dear," he said, "With your golden hair and your pretty face, you will make the loveliest of brides." He kissed my hand and I found myself warming to him. Jack Randall bowed formally to me, but when he tried to meet my eyes, he found he could not. Good, I thought, you haven't forgotten. I'm more of a danger than you realized, Captain Randall, it's best if you remember it.

I went upstairs to my room and waited until the guests began to arrive. Suddenly I felt hands fastening my ruby necklace, lips gently brushing my neck. I turned, expecting Georgie, but Colin stood behind me, smiling.

"I wanted to tell you how lovely you looked, I couldn't resist the surprise. You were expecting my cousin, no doubt."

My hands shook as I picked up my earrings, and put them in my ears. "You should not have done that, that was more familiar than was proper."

He knelt next to me, "And what would you and Georgie care about proper? I'm sorry, it was meant as a joke, do, please forgive me?"

The smile on my face was as false as the apology I granted him. So Colin might be a danger after all. He tucked my hand under his arm and took me downstairs where Georgie awaited me.

"Here she is, as I promised," he handed me off to George and kissed me chastely on the forehead, it was all I could do to not wipe it away.

Georgie took my hand, "What's wrong with you?" he whispered, "You have a face like a thundercloud."

I shrugged, trying to act as if nothing were truly wrong, "I was just having trouble with my dress."

"You're lying, Irina, why won't you tell me what's wrong so I can make it right?"

Because you can't make this right, I thought, Colin has designs on me, and on the lairdship, I reckon. How am I supposed to tell you your childhood friend wants you dead?"

All through dinner Randall would not look at me. Are you afraid? I thought, well you should be. The rest of the company was very pleasant. The officers looked elegant in their blue dress coats. If I could forget my American history, let alone the history of any country the English occupied, I would have thought them very pleasant people indeed. Here I was, sitting and eating with redcoats and Scottish quislings, engaged to marry one of them, having a good time, as if I did not know anything that I had learned that should tell me otherwise.

After dinner there was dancing, and as I danced in the arms of the garrison commander, I had an idea. When the dance was finished, I led him over to a small sofa located in an alcove that was private and away from all the dancers. I took two glasses of champagne, and giving one to him I asked innocently, "Would you mind, awfully, if I asked you a question about someone in the garrison?"

"Of course not, my dear, I am hoping that you will ask about myself."

We both laughed at this. "Alas, no," I answered, with just the right touch of coquetry, "I am to be a married woman tomorrow, I am afraid I must deny myself that pleasure."

The champagne was warming him up, "Who did you wish to know about then?"

I took a deep breath. "Well, it's Captain Randall. He does seem to be an odd one. I am not afraid of him," which in truth I wasn't, "But there is something frightfully strange about him. He seems to relate well with the men of the garrison and my future family, but with the women he seems quite well, hostile. Like he is afraid to look a woman in the eye. Look at all the flirting going on in the room, all the dancing, but he just stands and looks angry. If a man were to come up and talk to him, that would be fine. He's polite, but terribly cold with me, and he gives me looks like he would gladly stick a knife down my throat for his own amusement."

"Well, he is a bit of an outsider. He comes from a good enough family and his uncle bought him his commission at a fairly young age. He's a good soldier, albeit a brutal one. I had to forbid his going to the brothels because he beat some of the girls up quite badly, and for no good reason I was told. I've heard about incidents of floggings that went beyond the parameters we set up for such things. It's one thing to rule by brutality, but altogether another if you incite your subjects to riot because of it."

He put his hand on mind, "In truth, my dear, I'm afraid that the only person who truly knows about Jack Randall is Randall himself. I can understand why he makes you nervous, but if you have any problems, ever, please come to me. The Campbells are our loyal allies, and we do not want to lose them. They are valuable to our campaign in Scotland, and we can always count on their cooperation." He kissed my hand. "I must get going. I will make sure that Randall behaves himself while he is here. I can guarantee that he will not bother you."

He knows more than he is telling me, I thought to myself as I watched him walk away. He knew what I was talking about without my having to tell him. I felt a little better, perhaps Randall had not singled me out because I was an unknown, he was simply treating me the way he would treat any woman, duchess or whore.


	11. The Snow Wedding

It's been a while since I added a chapter to this. That and the fact that what is coming I do not want to happen, but it must. Hope you like it!

December 27, my wedding day, my anniversary for years to come if my dream did not come true. I wrapped myself in a warm, woolen robe and looked outside, No snow had fallen during the night, it was not snowing now. It looked as if guests who were not lodged in the castle might be able to attend.

I had not slept well, in fact, I slept very little. There was a voice in my head that would not be silenced, saying, "Don't do this, don't do this." Were it not for the snow, were it not for the fact that I had fallen in love with a handsome, twenty year old Scot, I would steal a horse and leave right now. All I'd need to do was get to Inverness and the henge. I don't know if the day or the time of the year would make a difference, but I was willing to try.

Only I couldn't. Instead I decided to do the one thing that always calmed and steadied me, I would go help with the horses.

I piled on woolen petticoats and a thick wool skirt, I threw a fur lined cloak over my wool jacket, and made my way quietly down the stairs to the kitchen, out the back door.

Inside was the familiar sound of hay being munched, along with a bran mash. I took in the smell of hay, manure and horse, all smells that I have loved since I was very young. I took a pitchfork and started mucking stalls, filling water buckets, and making sure the mangers were filled with hay. All these things helped to steady me, and I gave myself over to the mindless tasks that always helped soothe me.

My refuge was short lived, however. I was escorted out, told that I mustn't tire myself out before the wedding. If only they knew. I would be fighting to stay awake long before Georgie and I would be able to make our good nights and go upstairs to our married quarters. I would be Mrs. George Campbell, by Scottish and His Majesty's laws. What about the fact that I had not yet been born, I thought, was my union still legitimate? I don't think any laws had been written regarding that.

I gave Birdie one last pat, and went out into the snow. It looked like the clouds were breaking up, that meant it was getting colder, and clear weather for the day. If I had any sense I would go inside and seek the shelter and warmth of my room. No one would come to wake me for a while, so I would be rested and in my best looks for the ceremony that afternoon.

Why had he fought so hard to marry me? He's only twenty, surely he must want a few more years' freedom before he settles down. Did he see the golden hair, the figure, the beauty I pay scarce attention to? Was it the lure of the older woman, wanting to show he could dominate me, as so clearly he had when I was captured by the Frasers? Or had he truly fallen in love with me?

What did I like about him? For twenty he was very skilled in bed. There was a sweet rhythm to that dance we did. With a touch he could make me feel weak in the knees. And there was the fact that he was intelligent, hard working, and seriously committed to the role he must assume some day. Intelligence and the willingness to work hard are two very sexy qualities if you ask me. There is nothing attractive about shiftless. Oh, and it didn't hurt that he was so handsome that one look from him could turn me to jelly.

Still, that didn't equal love. I knew he could give me a good life, and I did appreciate it, but I had a good life. I loved being an archaeologist, loved my little house in Luxor, my friends in the archaeological community. Most important was the fact that as a married woman in 1740's Scotland I would not have the freedom I have in 2014 America. No career, no travel, no teaching in Cairo and Chicago, all claims to independence lost.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I did not hear the footsteps behind me when I left the kitchen. A hand was placed over my mouth, and my arms held down, and I was pressed close to him. I knew him by his smell, only he was wearing lavender today instead of the patchouli he had favored before. Jack Randall had me in his power, for the moment at least. What he wanted I was not sure of, but I would be patient—and learn.

I tried to flip him, but couldn't. He lifted me up just high enough to keep me from finding a purchase with my feet. He dragged me down a passageway, looking around, looking for something he could not seem to find. If he was looking for a dungeon cell to lock me in, he would be severely disappointed. The dungeons had been used to provide a foundation for the chateau, and only two cells had been built as temporary holding for prisoners, but that was it.

He settled for a small, little used storeroom off the main passage. Did he not think that when it was discovered I was missing that they would find me, wherever he put me? Surely he would not make the mistake of killing me. I had voiced my apprehensions regarding him to his superiors, and if all that was found of me was a body, it would take little guessing to know who was responsible.

I looked him in the eye and said, "What do you want? What do you hope to accomplish by this?"

He said nothing, but stared. I stared back. We were like two children having a staring contest, seeing who would blink first. Both of us were obviously champions of the unblinking. I stared into his dark eyes, he into my wolf's green ones. He was clearly trying to intimidate, I, on the other hand, would not be intimidated.

"Where do you come from, what are you doing here?" he demanded. The soldier now had the air of the interrogator, but he had never faced an angry caliph who was determined to not let you dig on village land unless he stood to profit.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. I can't understand why I am here myself, I shouldn't be. Call it magic, call it witchcraft, call it whatever you want, but I don't even know how I got here."

"That's like a tale my old nurse might have told me. It's no answer at all. Where did you come from?"

"All right, I came from the colonies, but not by the obvious route. Somehow I've become unstuck in time, and where I am is where I should not be. I was investigating a small stone henge outside Inverness, and fell asleep. When I awoke, I found myself where I should not have been. The Campbells found me and brought me back to Chateau La Mere. Georgie fell in love with me and now I'm going to marry him. Confused? You should be because I surely am."

He raised a hand to hit me, but I'm good at ducking. My heel connected with his jaw, and he tumbled onto the floor next to me.

"Try that again and it will be balls next time. You're not doing yourself any favors trying to hold me captive. Your superiors like me better than they like you. I've done nothing except to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tell you what, you get me to Inverness and I'll see what I can do about getting back to my time."

"Do the lairds know they're allowing their heir to marry a madwoman?"

I leaned close in to him. "Look at me—do I look like I belong here? My speech, do I sound like I'm from anywhere near here? I'm not Scots, I'm not English. You're trying to determine where I'm from by the way I speak? Don't bother, it's not worth the effort."

He was saying nothing, just looking at me, then I thought of something. "I hope you have a son and heir. I can tell you when you're going to die." I could, I had seen his name in the records of the British casualties at Culloden. He looked up at me, suddenly interested. I held up my hand."I could but don't ask me, because I won't. It's not good for a person to know the date and time of their death, it keeps them from living their lives as fully as they should. I could tell you a lot of things that you wouldn't believe, and you won't live to find out. Now, I think it's time you let me go, because I hear someone down the hall."

He should have listened to me, because at that moment, Georgie jerked open the door, and his fist connected with Randall's already sore jaw.

"Are you all right? Did he hurt you?" He cast a dirty look at Randall, who grew pale when he saw his commanding officer standing behind Georgie. This obviously was not a perfect day for banana fish.

I felt sorry for him, not that he deserved it. He was just someone who was making up for his own inadequacies by bullying and terrorizing those he thought weaker than himself. He'd thought to frighten and intimidate me, and I had defeated him with a truth too awful for him to comprehend.

"Don't press charges against him," I told his commander, "I'd rather have him in my debt." I leaned over him, my blond hair brushing his face, "I'm going to let your keep your record intact. Know this, those to whom evil is done do evil in return. What you do will follow you, Captain Randall, and today a woman got the better of you and as galling as you find it, you will have to accept that as truth."

I let Georgie lead me away. "Now why the hell did you do that, lass? He deserves to be court martialed, at the very least."

"There's no doubt in my mind that he would much prefer that. Now he's going to have to live with the fact that a woman turned the tables on him. I'm sure he'd prefer killing me to being at my mercy. He's discovered just how small he is, and I bet he does not like it, not one little bit."

My punishment was to be sent upstairs and fed and bathed. It was too cold to wash my hair, but my maid anointed it with sweet almond oil, and braided it with white and silver ribbons. Then, layer by layer they dressed me. The new linen petticoats, the quilted silk petticoats, the white fur lined gown. Pearls were twisted round and round my neck, until it felt like I was wearing a veritable collar of pearls. Last came the long pearl earrings, hanging almost to my shoulders in great clusters.

When they put me in front of the mirror, I felt like a princess. The maids were lamenting the fact that the chateau had no greenhouse that could provide me with flowers. I didn't need them, I felt like a fresco I had seen in a tomb where a bride had been draped in her wedding finery, and wore a necklace of pearls as fine as these. Never, ever, had I felt so exquisitely beautiful, and I found myself wishing that I could rid myself of the maids, for I wanted Georgie to see me, and I wanted very badly to fuck him.

The hands of the clock moved agonizingly slowly. At last, Georgie's father came into the room and said, "It's time, my dear," and offered me his arm. I made my way through the chateau to the chapel, now overflowing with people. I held no flowers as I walked down the aisle, but did not need them. I kept my eyes ahead, watching for my young groom, my Georgie.

At last we stood before the Anglican priest, and he conducted the ceremony in Latin, as had been done since the time of Henry VIII. Our vows, though, we recited in English, and at the conclusion, Georgie slipped an antique gold ring onto my finger, saying, "With this ring, I thee wed." The priest pronounced us husband and wife, and the kiss Georgie gave me was indecently long.

What followed I don't remember. There was the feast, the interminably long feast. My husband and I kept staring at each other, looking as though we would devour the other if we could. Toasts were raised, a cake was cut, and when we were finally released to our wedding bed, I was not even sure I could stay awake for my wedding night.

My maids led me to my new chamber, and removed my clothes, layer by layer. They sponge bathed me—as if it were necessary—with a mixture of water and rosewater, finally draping me in one of the nightgowns of silk and lace that Lady Campbell had thoughtfully added to my trousseau. They put me to bed with many good wishes and blessings, then left me to wait for my groom.

He came in, wearing a thick robe and a lace collared night shirt. He looked around the room, remarking on the size of the bed. He let the robe slip off his shoulders, then gently began to pull my gown over my head.

"I want to see you," he whispered, and began to explore me gently with his fingers. He did not kiss me, but took my breast into his hand and began first to fondle, then to play with the nipple with his tongue. Then he stopped and looked at me, well aware that when he touched my breasts it drove me mad with desire.

Gently, he spread my legs apart, and began to explore me with his tongue. His wicked tongue was all over me, teasing me, and when I began to climax, he held back, smiling.

"I'm going to have you mad with desire before I give you any release. I've learned your ways, how to make you want me so badly that you start to cry. I'm going to tease you until you're screaming for me to have you, and I intend to have all of you tonight. You're mine, you're my love, my only love, and that little life inside of you is mine, too. And no matter what I do to you, don't even try to tell me no, it will do you no good. When I'm done you'll be acknowledging me as your lord and master—at least in bed."

He was true to his word. By the time he was finished, I was sore all over. He'd done things I hadn't expected of him, but even the pain brought exquisite pleasure. And as he warned, telling him "No" did no good

We fell asleep, which one first I don't know, but soon I slipped into the dream. I tried to waken, knowing what was coming, but before that was granted to me, I saw George lying in the red-stained snow, his thigh gashed and the blood pumping from the femoral artery, while his cousin stood by and watched him die.


	12. For Scots Who Wi' Bruce Ha' Bled

I am married. I am now the "young" Lady Campbell—Georgie's aunt is now the "old" Lady Campbell, though no one would ever say that to her face

. I am now in possession of a small fortune that is all my own, given to me by my husband to provide for me in case something happens to him

I am counting the days that my husband has left to live. Does he realize my fears? I am grateful for every day that the weather is so bad that he and Colin cannot go boar hunting—to their bitter disappointment. Each day I wake up and look out the window and hope that if it is not snowing, the snow will at least still be there. One day, alas, it will not.

My husband is young and handsome, and will be that way for all eternity. I cannot sleep very well these days, and when sleep will not come, I light a candle and look at him. He is so young, so beautiful. I cannot believe that he entered into a marriage with someone my age. I look at him and want to touch him, but do not for fear of waking him.

When I do sleep, I dream "the dream", the dream that I know spells the end of my life as I know it. No one will believe me when I tell them that Colin was responsible. If he offers to marry me, which I am certain he will, I will be urged to accept him. "Give your son a father," they will say, "You are too young to be a widow." I will plead my mourning period, hoping that will buy me a year, and try to find a way to escape Chateau La Mere and my husband's murderer.

If only I could arrange for Colin to die. I know he is waiting, like the patient spider of the Robert Burns poem, for his chance. And when it comes, it will all be over for me. No marriage, no happiness, only a child that I must not lose who will be heir to the Campbell lands and name. There will be no question whose child he is, and I am sure that "he" is a boy. I can feel it. I will make sure that he grows to adulthood and will claim his birthright. I will not let Colin take his life as he did his father's. I've promised myself this.

When Georgie is killed I will have to get away. I have a stash of gold and silver coins hidden behind a brick that will help pay my way. As soon as Colin announces his wish to marry me, I will have to run. I will have to be patient, I must not refuse him outright. I must be clever, lull him into thinking that I will agree. I cannot wait too long, though, I think I can still ride safely when I am five months gone, but after that I do not want to risk it. More than anything else, I do not want to endanger my baby.

I've been looking at maps, and I think that the Frazer lands will be my safest bet. When the weather gets better I must somehow get a message to Jamie and let him know my fears. I long for his comforting presence, his big arms and his warm breath on my hair. My son should be born in Chateau La Mere, but where he will be born, I do not know. In the long run, "where" will not matter, the Campbell lands are his birthright, and he will go back there some day to claim them.

At meals I am polite, even cordial. I smile at Colin's jokes, but keep carefully out of his reach. How can Georgie be so blind? Colin's every little nuanced gesture makes clear his attraction for me, hide it though he may. He covets his cousin's wife, but knows he cannot have her. There is only one way he thinks he may accomplish this, and I am on alert. I watch, oh how carefully I watch. My well being, my safety, my husband's safety is at stake, as well as that of our unborn child. How long would this child live if Colin succeeded in his plan?

February stayed cold, now March has come and the weather is slowly warming. The snow reduces in volume day by day, and soon we are out riding our restless horses. I ride the gelding Colin gave me to be polite, but I miss Birdie's unpredictable ways.

The way the horses hooves sink into the ground indicates that it will be wet for some time to come, and it's also still cold. We've seen the end of the snow, most likely, but the rains will be starting—that cold, relentless, rainy weather that Scotland is so known for. It's cold and foggy in the morning, sometimes all day. If the fog keeps up, surely they can't go hunting.

At night Georgie polishes his spears, keeping the points razor sharp. I can see the longing in his eyes, the longing of a little boy who has a new toy but has been unable to use it. He longs for this hunt, wants it, even visualizes it, I think. He and Colin are talking about it, how long they should wait, will the weather grow worse or get better. He promises to have bracelets made for me out of the tusks, if they find one big enough. I force myself to smile as if I would look forward to this gift, when all I really want is for all boar to disappear magically from clan Campbell territory.

At last, the moment I am dreading has arrived. It is a clear, cold morning, and Georgie informs me that he and his cousin are hunting today. By coincidence, it is one of the mornings where I am fighting nausea, and Georgie has ordered the maid to bring me eggs, toasted bread, and tea. Thus I am spared having to see him off, though I try, knowing what is to come. But I am too sick to stand on my feet, and Georgie catches me before I fall and puts me back into bed, wrapping the covers tightly around me. He puts another piece of wood on the fire, then kisses me goodbye, warning me that I should stay in bed as long as I need to because it may be late afternoon before he comes back.

"Georgie, don't go, don't leave me. Don't do this. I'm afraid something will happen.' Am I saying this out loud, or am I speaking only in my head?

He pauses his dressing, "What's wrong with you, lass? Is it that you're breeding? Don't fret yourself, it's bad for you and the bairn." He goes on with getting ready, ignoring me.

"You fool," I want to say, "Don't Colin is going to kill you, or at least make sure you die? He wants me and he wants to inherit the lairdship. You're going to die today if you do this. You will never know your son. Your father and uncle will mourn your loss while Colin waits like a spider for the both of them to die and become Laird Campbell. And he's going to make me marry him, so he can be in charge of your son, unless I can find a way to escape him.

I want to pull away when he kisses me goodbye, but I don't. This may be the last kiss I share with him. Oh, Georgie, I don't know how to stop you from going to your death. I watch as he leaves the room, the tears falling from my eyes hot on my cheek. I bury my face in the pillow so no one will see them.

I'm feeling better, so I go get dressed and go to the stable. I don't ride today, I don't trust myself. There's a line from the Rubiyat that goes something like, "The moving finger writes and having writ, moves on." It's written and I can't stop it. I start to groom the gelding that Colin gave me, taking comfort in its warmth and the contented sound of him munching hay. He seems to sense that I'm upset and turns his head and nuzzles me—I warm to him on the spot, which I haven't really done before.

A tall, good looking stable hand with red hair and blue eyes comes over to me. He reminds me of Jamie—and I suddenly wonder where he is.

"Can I help you, Mistress Campbell?" he asks, and I look more closely at him. The resemblance is startling, and I nod.

I put down the brushes, and take him to the tack room. "What's your name?" I ask him, hoping against all hope that it will be "Frazer" or "McKensie".

He looks around nervously, but we are alone. "I'm John Frazer McKensie," he says, "I'm Jamie Frazer's cousin. He told me to give you this." He pulls from his pocket a piece of amber on a black cord. The amber hasn't been shaped, but it's almost a natural oval with few rough edges. "He says to tell you that if you need me, I'm here to help. If something happens to the young laird and you need to get away, I'm to take you to Lallybroch."

I stuff the piece of amber deep into my pocket. "Thank you," I tell him and escape from the tack room, barely able to breathe, and my heart pounding so hard I fear that I will have a heart attack.

I run upstairs to my room, shut and lock the door. I want a drink, but it's too early in the day, and I'm still not sure if it would hurt the baby. I pull a chair up to the front of the fire, add more wood, then sit in fetal position, hugging myself closely.

How did he know? Or was this just his way of thanking me? Oh Jamie, my husband is out hunting with his cousin and is not going to come back alive. Can you really help to save me?

I'm Russian, I believe in a lot of things. I'm supposed to have gypsy blood in me, way back, but I don't know of anyone in my family who doesn't believe in dreams and portents. My dreams have been too real, too real, as if happening before my very eyes. Maybe I'm wrong and today is not the day, maybe my husband will survive, but I don't think so.

My son will inherit the lairdship, not Colin. Will Colin try to make me lose my baby, if my pregnancy can survive the shock of Georgie's death? Will he try to kill my son while he's still an infant, or while he's growing up? I can't risk my child's life, I have got to get out of here, and Jamie, blessed blessed Jamie, has sent someone to help me to flee if I must.

I make myself change into a gown, have a maid braid my hair with ribbons, the way Georgie—and, alas, Colin—like it. For the sake of my baby I sit down to the afternoon meal, put a smile on my face, act as if nothing is wrong, as if they won't be bringing Georgie's body, not my live and loving Georgie, back.

I look out the window, the shadows are growing long. I wrap a warm shawl around my shoulders, for though it is spring, it is still cold with winter's chill. I walk to the edge of the lake, skipping stones, though I am looking for a group of horsemen, meaning that they have at last returned, but nothing.

I sit down with Lady Campbell and we have tea, and make small talk. I like Georgie's aunt and uncle very much. They are thrilled with my pregnancy, and as soon as the baby quickens, I know my Aunt Campbell is going to begin to prepare the nursery, and never will a baby be more loved or spoiled.

I feel guilty for a moment, that perhaps this child is going to be taken so heartlessly from them—by me. I don't dare stay, though. Colin will try to make me marry him, and that will put the heir in his charge—if he doesn't kill him. Poor Tutankhamen did not survive Aye and Horemheb's ambition. He only managed to make it to eighteen, would my child survive that long?

I go into the library and try to read, but I can't. I'm restless. I start to pace around the library, then start wandering through the house. I go back upstairs and fetch my shawl, then I go back outside. Where are they?

At last, Colin is leading the way on his big gelding and the men are following behind him. Is Georgie there? Am I wrong about Colin? Please let me be wrong, but I look and I look and I do not see Georgie's sleek, dark, head.

Colin dismounts, comes and takes me by the hand. "Irina, I am so sorry." His face is one of sorrow, but I see the expectancy in his eyes. He's trying to hide the fact that he's glad, but he can't, not from me. His aura is darker and blacker than ever. Evil has finally taken him.

"No," I whisper hoarsely, and put my hand over my mouth. Think of your baby, Irina, think of your baby. Your baby has to live, if you miscarry, Georgie's child will never be born. Black clouds are swirling inside my head, and it's getting hard to breathe. Think of your child, dammit, think of the damn child. You must not lose this baby, you will not lose this baby.

And then a part of me just let go. I wasn't aware of my knees buckling under me. I didn't know that Colin caught me in his arms and carried me into the house. All I knew was that Georgie started whispering to me, "It's going to be all right my dearest love. Just hang on, I won't let you go.

"Georgie," I whispered weakly, and let go of the last threads of consciousness and knew no more.


	13. Awakenings

I woke, not knowing where I was, until I realized I was lying in bed wearing a linen nightgown, and my hair had been freshly braided. Why was I in bed? I tried to sit up, but became dizzy and fell back onto my pillow.

"No, mistress, you must not try to get up." I became aware that there was a maid sitting beside my bed. "Please, you must not get up, " she repeated and rose and ran out of the room, returning with Lady Campbell.

"Oh, my dear, we were so worried." Lady Campbell brushed my hair back from my forehead, and kissed me. "The others will be so pleased that you are all right, and the baby…"

"My baby? What about my baby? What happened to me?" Little bits and pieces of memory were starting to come back, like vague images from a dream.

"You have been unconscious for a week; the strain of learning what happened to Georgie was too much for you." I put my hands over my eyes, the tears now coming of their own will. "Please, my dearest," she said, "The doctor and midwife both agree that you are not yet out of danger, but you are a strong and healthy girl, and your body may be able to take the shock. You have not lost the baby, yet, but you must take care and rest to avoid doing so. The doctor says there is a good chance you will have a healthy pregnancy."

She sat beside me on the bed and took me in her arms, letting me cry. "There, there, my darling, God does not give us these trials without a reason. You are surrounded by people who love you, and one day you will wake up to discover that life goes on." She pushed me away gently and looked at me, "I was a young widow, just like yourself. I thought that I would never love again, and then I met Adam. You must take your time to grieve, but life manages to find its way. You are too young and beautiful for your life to be over, trust me." She kissed me and left me on my own at my request.

But was your husband murdered by his cousin, I wanted to ask. I knew what Colin had planned, had the Christmas gifts of boar spears been part of his scheme? How could such kind and gentle people produce a son like him, for had I not known for sure of Colin's plans, I perhaps could have married him—if I'd planned to stay here, that is.

I had not counted on falling in love so passionately with Georgie. I had not planned on our marriage. I had not planned on our baby. I dared not go to Inverness and the stone circle just yet. I did not know what would happen to my baby if I tried to return to the stones—and my own time and life. There was another life to think of now, and I was determined to make sure that Georgie's baby lived, and thrived. He would not die in infancy or childhood, he would see manhood, I would make sure of it.

I would have to leave here, soon, but I needed to make sure that I would be strong enough to ride. With luck, and patience, I would regain my strength in a week or two. I didn't want to wait until too late in my pregnancy to ride all the way to Clan Frazer lands, because it would not be a short journey and might involve hard riding.

How long would it take Colin to declare himself? That he intended to do it was beyond doubt. A year of mourning would be considered proper for a woman in my circumstances, maybe even two, but would he be patient enough to wait that long? Why didn't he wait until my baby was born, or did he think that the shock of Georgie's death would make me miscarry, which could have happened.

He would not be so crass as to propose marry right away, or would he? The family might not oppose it, but I was sure that they would not pressure me to marry until I was out of mourning, or at least into light mourning. It didn't matter anyway, I was determined to leave Chateau La Mere, and make good my escape. I would simply have to be very careful, not make my intentions known, and be very careful when it came to Colin Campbell.

I went to my jewelry box, and take out the piece of amber Jamie sent me, running the cord through my fingers. I did not know if my maids could be trusted. I was sure that Lady Campbell chose them, but Colin might pay them to keep an eye on me. I am going to have to find a hiding place that no one but me would know about. All I needed to do was pack some clothes and necessities, and stash it away for when I leave. My money was safely hidden, there is nothing like cold hard cash when it comes to bribes.

The doctor came in and looked at me, declared me healthy. He cautioned me to be careful, and I am very aware that I could still lose the baby, so I must be careful. I miscarried once, several years ago, and I will recognize the signs, I think. I offer no arguments, no objections, as badly as I want to get up, I'm willing to stay in bed for the moment.

Colin has the decency to stay away for a few days before coming to visit me. Bastard, I think when I look at him, how dare you? His face is grave and sympathetic, and I wonder if he rehearsed his look in front of the mirror.

"I am so sorry for you, my darling," he says, "You meant the world to Georgie, and he wanted me to make sure that you were taken care of. He wanted only the best for you, you know."

Of course I know. I knew every little intimate detail of Georgie's thoughts. I also know he put his trust in you, in spite of my warnings, and look where it got him. He loved you, you were the brother he never had. He would have placed his life in your hands, and given his for you without a thought. Bastard. Bastard. You killed my husband; the only thing I regret is that I am not going to kill you. I have no desire to have a price on my head.

A week passed, and then I was finally allowed up. I put on a black dress, but declined the veil. Widows' weeds don't suit me, but black seems appropriate for what I was going to do. A new maid was helping me dress, and somehow she seemed familiar. She had red hair and bright blue eyes, and was tall, almost as tall as me.

She took my arm, and then I realized who she was. I did not know her name, but she looked enough like John McKensie to be his twin. I said nothing, but let her walk me to the castle cemetery where Georgie lay newly buried. I got down on my knees and started the sight of his name on the tombstone. The "Beloved husband of Irina Campbell" carved on his stone-oh how those words opened the wound afresh.

I kissed the tombstone, then looked around to see if we were being watched. "Are you John McKensie's sister?" I asked softly, not knowing if we could be overheard.

"Aye. I'm Mary McKensie, My brother got me this job so that I could keep an eye on you, and let you know that you are not alone. You can trust my brother and me, we're determined to get you out of here. You've got to get stronger so you'll be up to the ride. Jamie said we should bring you to Lallybroch, you should be safe there for a while. If things get too hot, we can take you to Castle Leoch, but it should be done before you're too far gone with child. Do you think you're up to the journey?"

"I think so, if not now, soon. I want to get away before I get too bulky. I've got to pack some things, and I'll need your help keeping the other maids busy while I do it. Also, I want to start walking to help build up my strength. I don't think anyone will consider it too strange if I go to visit my husband's grave every day—I'm newly widowed, after all. And I want to pay your brother John a visit, and let him know I'm all right." I was sure that I would not be allowed to ride, that may have to wait until I leave.

Mary offered me her arm on the way back, and I found myself grateful for it. We walked arm in arm, up to the house where I saw Colin Campbell standing. "Go up to my room, I'll handle this better alone," I whispered to her.

"Yes, mum," she answered and walked past Colin with her head lowered. He held is arm out to me, and I took it to seem grateful. Already I was planning the great charade that would have to be played out. Pretend you're dealing with an administrator who is telling you something you don't want to hear, don't argue, don't let your face reveal anything. Let him suspect nothing is wrong. You are the grieving widow of the cousin he murdered, but you don't have to let him suspect that you know.

"I hate to see you this way, but black becomes you, Irina. Not many women pull it off, but you look lovely."

Oh yes, start with the flattery. "Thank you, Colin, but do you think it's appropriate to congratulate me on how I look in my mourning?"

He missed the sarcasm. "Georgie told me that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Once he laid eyes on you, he was determined not to let you get away. The night he met you, he told me, "I'm going to marry that woman, I don't care what Father or Uncle thinks. I'll never meet another like her."

"Those are things that a young man would say. But he was so determined to marry me, I don't think I could have gotten away from him if I tried." Tears were forming in the corners of my eyes, and I wiped them away with my fingertips.

"Oh, Irina, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. Shall I take you to your room?" I nodded, not knowing what he'd planned, but suddenly I wanted to cry again. It was so unfair that a life should be cut off at twenty, especially one that had been full of promise. And even more unfair that this life was snuffed out by someone he trusted.

Mary was waiting for me, the look on my face told her how I was feeling. "I've got to get out of here, but I don't know if they're watching me. My plans are to be quiet and not arouse their suspicions. They nearly lost me, and the baby, they are surely going to take precautions to prevent it happening again. I'm sure they want Georgie's child to be born here, they'd never let me take him away. And Colin will want to keep me here, that I'm sure of. The sooner I can leave, the better."

"It will be sooner, rather than later," Mary said soothingly. We'll leave when the moon is full. We know the cottagers around here and they'll be willing to shelter us during the day, especially if you have siller to offer. The hard part will be getting away from here, but we'll manage, never you fear. Now, I've got to get you ready for dinner, so they can see just how well you are."

I'm sure I was not expected, but they were pleased to see me at dinner. The neckline to my gown was very decollate, but a black lace fichu saved my modesty. Lord and Lady Campbell kissed me, telling me how sorry they were, but glad both the baby and I were all right. Lord George Campbell, however, took my hand, saying, "My dear, dear girl," and burst into tears. I put my arms around him and held him, while he allowed himself a moment to weep. "My brave, strong, girl," he said and patted me on the cheek.

Colin looked annoyed, but tried not to show it. If not for Georgie's heir, growing in my belly, he would inherit the lairdship of Clan Campbell. How long before he made his intentions known, I wondered, soon, it would be soon. After all, he had not been able to wait to kill my young husband, surely he would not wait long to make his play for his wife. I wanted to feel safe from him; I wanted to be certain he would only kill me if I refused him. What caused my greatest fear? That he would kill my young son in his cradle. For that reason alone, I knew I had to leave.

He stared at me all through dinner. He wanted me to know he was staring at me. The lust in his eyes was obvious, but I acted coldly towards him, to let him know I did not reciprocate. I was certain, now, that he would try something; he did not even have the respect to leave me alone until I was out of mourning. This man was so smooth, so sure of himself, that he thought he could take me, against my will if need be. He'd have me willing, if he could, if not, he would not hesitate to force me. How long had he planned this, anyway?

I did not join them for coffee after dinner, but sought the safety of my rooms. I slammed the door behind me, then began to pace around the room. Mary looked up, wondering at my distress. She took me by the hand and put me in a chair, then called for tea, and a bottle of brandy.

"I'm afraid of him, Mary, mortally afraid. He always was too attentive, would take liberties, but it was no use telling Georgie, he would never believe it. I'm afraid of what he'll do if he catches me alone. He wants me, he's always wanted me, and now that Georgie is gone, he intends to have me, willing or not. I've barely begun my mourning, and he intends to force me into his bed—and then he'll want to marry me. And the family won't object, they'll only see that Colin is marrying his cousin's widow in order to take care of her and her young child. That child will be safe only if it's a girl. God help Georgie's son if he is put into his cousin's tender care."

"We've got to get you out of here, then," replied Mary calmly. Thank god for her level headed good sense. "I'll share your bed, and try to make sure he's never alone with you. I'll make up a bundle of your clothes and take them to the stable and John can hide them. We can leave in a week, that will give you time to regain your strength. Be careful though, no matter how hard we try to keep him away from you, if he really wants to, he'll find a way."

I began to count the days, going every day to see Georgie to tell him why I was leaving. My faithful Mary was always with me, a step or two behind me, keeping watch over me. I dreaded meal times, when she could not be with me. It was then that Colin would be there, escorting me to my room, or to the small parlor where the family would have coffee. He would hold too tightly onto my arm, lingering his touch as long as he dared. And it took everything I had not to jerk my arm away from his, but I had to put on a show, pretend he did not repel me.

And I dreaded what would happen if he found me alone. Having Mary in my bed at night comforted me. She was not Georgie, but the space where he slept was no longer empty and cold. She'd wake up early, build a big fire, and have my breakfast brought up from the kitchen, which we would share. I didn't feel alone and vulnerable with her there, and soon we would be leaving, and I would not need to worry about Colin—ever again!

It was going well, too well. Though it wasn't an activity widows were supposed to indulge in, I would play cards with the family after dinner. We'd gamble for pennies a point, something which made it more interesting somehow. Even Colin could bring himself to be pleasant when the family engaged in any sort of game.

It was almost the full moon. Each night I would ask Mary when we were leaving, only to receive the same answer: soon. I was easily distracted, because of my pregnancy, and because the date of my flight was so near. My bundle was stored safely in the stable, and I had clothes in the cupboard that I would wear, along with my Doc Martins. And I was getting edgy—Colin was becoming more insistent.

He had yet to say anything, but I knew what he had planned, and for the first time since the arrival of John and Mary McKensie, I felt afraid. I could tell by the looks he would give me that he was tired of waiting, and he had been waiting since he first met me. I have never been raped, never been assaulted. I have sufficient skills that I might be able to fight off an attacker, but that is something that I never, never take for granted. If Colin intended to rape me if I did not cooperate with him, I might be able to prevent it, or not. And I would then have to explain why I had managed to injure him, and why.

My eyes were growing heavy, even though the hour was not late. My pregnancy was taking a toll. Some nights I retired early, then slept late. I would grow suddenly tired during a walk, then go back to my room to sit, and discover that I had fallen asleep for a half hour. My appetite was good, and my morning sickness had ceased, but this endless fatigue was frustrating, for I was by nature energetic, and needed little sleep as a rule.

But tonight I was tired, all I wanted was by bed. I said my goodnights and began to walk slowly up the stairs. Too late I heard the footsteps behind me, and felt a strong hand grab my arm. Colin said nothing as he pushed me further up the stairs and into my old room.

He'd been drinking, a bad sign. I tried to reason with him but he was beyond listening. He pushed me over the bed and lifted my skirts. I wanted to scream, but dared not. I did not want to cause trouble, and hoped against all hope that he could be reasoned with. I heard him undoing his jacket, then unfastening his pants. I could feel him as he laid himself against me for a moment, so I could feel his hardness against my legs.

He began to push my legs apart, to prepare to enter me, when the door slammed open against the wall. "Leave her alone," Mary's voice was loud enough for them to hear downstairs. He raised himself up when he saw the pistol in her hand. "If you don't leave her alone, I swear, by God, I'll kill you."

I moved away from him, impressed. I pushed my skirts down, and took her hand. Colin couldn't threaten her, he knew better. If he'd succeeded in raping me, he'd lose his family's support. He knew that was the only way he could have me, and he did so at great risk.

"We're leaving," said Mary, "Jamie was going to meet us here, but we'll have to catch him on the road."

"Jamie's coming?" I asked.

"Oh, aye, he insisted upon it. Said he didn't trust Johnny and me enough to not screw this up, so he'd better see to it himself. All we need to do is change our clothes and gather up the last minute necessities. I should have locked himself in the room, but I think he knows he's done enough damage. He might even have to take the blame for your leaving."

"How did you know?" I asked her.

I was waiting for you, and had the door open. I heard footsteps going up the stairs, but they didn't come to your door—they kept going. I've been keeping a pistol loaded just in case something happened, with the hopes I wouldn't have to use it. I heard the door close on the third floor, and I knew something was wrong."

"Well, you got there just in time. All we have to do now is wait for midnight, right? Maybe Jamie will surprise us and turn up early."

"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you lass? All the lassies seem to love that boy?"

"Did you ever see my husband?" I countered, "He was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, and knew how to make a girl feel good in bed—even though he was only twenty years old. I would have stayed with him for the rest of my life." Was that really true, I wondered.

We sat and waited for midnight. When the clock began to chime twelve, we made our way downstairs and through the kitchen. I dribbled oil and the hinges, and we opened the door and went out into the cold spring night.

"Well, lass, I see you're none the worse for wear," said a familiar voice, and I ran into his arms.

"Jamie, you came for me, I knew you would," and stayed in his embrace for a long time before he let me go.


	14. Flight and Escape to the Jacobites

To all of you who have been reading this, thank you. I have a generous amount of follows and favorites, but this story only has 6 reviews! If you're following me, would you mind awfully writing a review? A few of you maybe? I hate to beg, and it is so obvious that I am begging, but I'd really like some reviews—even a one sentence or a few words.

Ok, enough of embarrassing myself and acting like a total jerk.

We stood, Jamie and I, locked in each other's arms. His embrace was so warm, so inviting, and I could feel the beating of his great heart. I wanted to relax, to surrender to the way I was feeling but I could not.

It was too soon. I still longed for the touch of my young husband, now lost to me.

Reluctantly, I pulled away from him. "Thank you, Jamie," I said, "I need to get away from here, I do appreciate your help."

"I owe ye a favor lass," he replied, "You're in this situation because you helped me. You put yourself in the way so that I could make my escape. Now, I'm here to pay my debt." He turned to talk to John MacKensie and left me to myself.

Marsters was bringing the horses out of the barn. He was leading the black gelding Colin had given me. I'm going to call you "Rob Roy", I thought, looking at the horse I had given so little thought to until now. I felt a little like Rob Roy, the many travails he and his faithful Mary had faced-I was facing a few myself now.

They deposited the money Georgie had given me into saddlebags, except for a small bag I kept hidden on my person. The weight was not inconsiderable, but Rob Roy was a big, burley hunter, and the weight seem to mean little to him.

The others were mounted on the cobs the Scots loved, but I felt safer on my hunter. Rob Roy's long legs could easily outrun their ponies; if we had to make a run for it, I felt certain I could get away.

Marsters helped me mount, and as I sat waiting, I realized that we might be in for a long ride tonight and I had been up since sunrise. Since becoming pregnant I was requiring more sleep and the amount I had had would not see me through the night. I wondered if I should tell Jamie about my condition, but decided I would keep my own council and hope for the best.

A thought occurred to me. "Jamie," I said, "How are we going to get out of here? I don't know how you came here, but the entrance to the valley will be watched. I'm sure we'll be seen, especially as we ride along the lake."

"Ah," he said, "But we're not going to use the front door, we're going to slip out the back. There's a secret way through the hills that leads out of the valley. I'm sure the original owners used it to escape in the old days, there has been fighting in Scotland for centuries. I don't know if the Campbells knew of it, or gave it any thought if they did. When I came in it wasn't watched, so that's the path we will take."

My bundle had been placed on the pack horse, along with supplies we'd need on the journey. Mary came up to me, and John joined Jamie and his friends Angus and Murtagh. "Ready?" she asked me, "It's a long ride we're facing tonight, but we'll find refuge before dawn. There's many a sympathetic cottager who doesn't care for the Campbells and their English allies. And you've siller, yes? That will help ease the way."

"What will they say about taking in the widow of the young Campbell laird? Will money be enough to buy their silence if the Campbells come looking for me?"

"Don't worry yourself," said Mary sternly, "It's not good for the bairn. You have to believe that things will be all right. Do you want to go back to young Colin?"

No, I didn't, not for anything. "How much of a head start do you think we have? How long do you think it will be before anyone notices I'm gone? "

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "I stuffed your bed with bolsters and blankets to make it look like you were in it. If anyone asks about you, I told young Betsy to say you were sleeping. The Lady will look in on you eventually, but since you do a lot of sleeping lately, she won't worry about it for a while. But after that, well, they'll be after us for sure. I think we've bought six or eight hours head start, if we're lucky. We have to put as much distance as we can between us and the chateau, because they'll be hard on our tails as soon as they know you're gone. I hope you're up to the ride."

So did I. All I could do was try to hang on to my reins and sit up in the saddle. It was tonight, or nothing, I knew that; but my life had changed and I had the needs of another to look out for.

We began to set out, going as quietly as you can on horseback. The horses seemed to sense the urgency, for there was little snorting or shaking of bridles that I could hear. We were riding on soft dirt, and leaves, and the sounds of the hoof beats were thankfully muffled. Still, I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see Colin and his men any minute, or even worse, Colin with Jack Randall accompanying him.

The moon was nearly full, providing us with all the light we needed. It might be our enemy, though, for if the pursuit began, there would be no hiding from its light. I didn't know how long it would take us to ride out of the valley, but riding on the flatlands would make me feel terribly exposed. The one good things was that it would allow us to see our pursuers. Once my absence was discovered, it would be long before Colin to realize that we had made it out of the valley, and not by the usual route. And when Colin came after me, he would be coming after me with a vengeance.

The sound of hoof beats was almost hypnotic, and Rob Roy's gait was gentle, as Colin had said, but the gentle rhythm was causing me to sway a little in the saddle, and it was a struggle for me to stay awake. How long had we been riding? My watch had been useless since I had been swept up into the spell of the stones. I know people who can estimate time by the positions of the moon and the stars, but I can't.

The struggle to keep my eyes open became too much, and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, Mary kneeling beside me, saying, "Help, she's fallen from her horse."

It was no easy feat to push myself into an upright position, shake myself into wakefulness. "I'm all right," I said, "Truly. Don't worry about me. I won't fall asleep again," while thinking to myself, "liar."

Jamie came and knelt next to me. "Are you all right, lass?" His blue eyes were full of concern, and I was touched.

"She's four months gone with child, at least, and she would be safe in her bed if it were not for that bastard Colin," Mary's language was as colorful as mine, I mused. "She should be sleeping, the bairn makes her need the rest. It's a pity we had to leave so suddenly, but there was nothing to be done about it. Maybe she should ride with you, Jamie, and we can lead her horse."

"No! I'm not riding pillion with anyone. I can ride, I'm sure I can I can stay awake now." I struggled to stand, but Jamie pushed me gently down.

"No lass, we canna take the chance. Every time you fall, we lose time. I can keep ye snug and safe, and then when we stop ye can have a good, long rest. And besides, ye don't want to put the bairn in danger now, do ye?" His voice was gently coaxing, and rebelliously I consented.

John took Rob Roy's reins, and Jamie lifted me up on his pony, mounting up behind me, and we set out again. At first I sat up straight and stiff, but soon fatigue caused me to relax. I felt curiously warm and safe sitting with Jamie. My fur lined cloak kept me warm, and in spite of myself I began to rest against Jamie, snuggling in his arms, and before I knew it, I was asleep again and knew nothing more until we halted.

Jamie pulled me gently off his horse. "Come on lass, it's time to use that pretty smile of yours, and a little of the siller. These folks would shelter us anyway, but it will help if we sweeten the pot."

We'd stopped in front of a bee have shaped hut. It wasn't small though, it was large and roomy. And there was a chimney on the side, meaning the smoke would not come out through a hole in the roof. Someone ingenious had incorporated both modern and new, and even though it might have a dirt floor, I bet it was comfortable in both summer and winter.

There was even a barn, which meant a hiding place for our horses. The surrounding woods could provide plenty of cover, so we might be safe till dusk. Jamie would wait, as I would, until all traces of daylight were gone, so that we might slip away unnoticed.

The chatelaine of the farm was coming to greet us. She was tall, with brown hair peppered heavily with grey. She must have been quite attractive once, for she had good facial bones despite the fact that she had weathered with age. And by the look she was giving us, it was plain that she ruled the roost, and woe betide any husband that tried to bully this wife.

I drew two silver coins out of the bag, Jamie giving me a look of dismay. I'm doing as I think best, my look told him, and I held the coins up for her, making her burst into a broad grin. Jamie spoke to her in Gaelic, and she cast me a look of pity. She tucked the coins into her bodice and strode towards the house, the conversation over and matters decided.

"We're to follow her," whispered Jamie, "And you gave her too much money."

"No, I didn't, you cheap Scott," I retorted, "Think, she has to feed us, and she puts herself in danger by sheltering us. I not only bought us protection, I bought her loyalty. If you're going to bribe someone, over bribing them works every time."

Jamie muttered something in Gaelic, maybe saying something to the effect of "I'm not cheap, I'm thrifty." Under the circumstances it was just as well that I didn't understand what he did say

. The hut was warm and cozy, evidently from the fire that had been lit that morning. She dished out a bowl of porridge—which I hate—for me and then as the rest of our company came in, she fed them too. There was a loaf of bread fresh from the oven, and she sat this is front of us, along with some butter. Evidently this little farm did well. Hopefully the money I had given her would make up for the loss of food.

When we'd finished, she led me to a bed hidden by the curtain. The mattress was straw and bracken, but comfortable and fragrant. I was asleep the instant I laid down, and did not waken until just before dusk. The others were eating, and I could smell roast meat. Evidently they had killed a young doe and the goodwife had roasted it on the spit. There was plenty of food for all, and I ate with less guilt than I had in the morning.

We'd eaten as much as we could, there was no telling when we would get our next meal. We had brought some provisions with us, but fresh food would be a luxury on the road. And by now, Colin might be looking for us, and we would only be able to stop and eat when it was safe. We had to put as much distance between us and the chateau as we could, but no matter how swiftly we traveled, it might not be fast enough.

The goodwife had me kneel, and she gave me her blessing. Strange how such a tiny and seemingly insignificant thing could make me feel better, but it did. My apprehension now was growing into full blown fear.

We mounted, me back on Rob Roy, and began to ride out onto the road. Murtagh and Angus rode next to Jamie, and they talked softly among themselves in Gaelic. I wondered, idly, what they were talking about.

One thing we all had in common, from time to time we would glance over our shoulders. I was on the alert for the sound of hoof beats behind us, fearful that at any time I could see Colin and a company of men appearing suddenly out of the mist.

I was unaware of the path Jamie was taking, or where "Lallybroch" was. Colin would have no idea where I was going, but maybe could guess who I was going with. Just because John and Mary were MacKensies, that did not mean I would go to the MacKensie for shelter. We were buying time, more, once he guessed where we had gone, he would pursue us with a vengeance.

I looked up to see Jamie riding next to me. "We're going to ride through the day, as well as the night, tonight. I don't know if they're coming after us, yet, but I mean to put all the distance I can between us and Chateau La Mere. By now, they surely know you're gone, and which horse you took. They'll be riding hard to catch us with us. He paused, and took a breath, "you know, that hunter you ride makes you stand out."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I know, you're right, but I'm keeping him. If I have to put distance between me and pursuer, your ponies won't be much use. He's fast, and that makes me feel safe. He can jump over obstacles in the roadway, too. If I were to race you, you'd never catch me, and if Colin comes after me, it won't be on gypsy cobs—at least I have a horse that might outrace his."

I've made my point, it would be hard for someone to run me down. But no matter how fast my horse, I couldn't run indefinitely. I would rather die, than have Colin force me to come back with him. I would kill him, then kill myself, I wouldn't really have any other choice. I know I stood out on my hunter, but I was keeping him. His long, rangy legs just might save me.

We were all listening, any little noise sent us into cover, if cover were available. The men kept their pistols loaded, and at the ready. I've kept guns with me at dig sights for protection, and I can fire a nine mil fairly accurately. I knew about weapons of this era, and felt I could fire one about as accurately as anyone else. I wish I had a crossbow, but neither Mary nor I carried any weapons, except for the little dirk Mary carried. Having always looked out for myself, I felt naked and vulnerable, I didn't like depending upon anyone for protection. My only security was the speed of my horse, but if someone shot me in the back that would be of no use.

I kept listening, turning my head. Rob Roy caught my nervousness and kept jibbing, "Keep that damn horse quiet," said Murtagh, and I glared back at him, though he couldn't see it in the darkness. Rationally, I knew we were still some time and distance ahead of them, but my fear was mounting as we grew farther from the Chateau. I knew that any moment, Colin could show up with men of the household with him, and a few English soldiers for good measure. He might have found out about John and Mary, but he wouldn't know about the others.

Worst of all, he might bring Randall with him, and I just might be tempted to hasten his death by a few years. I was vaguely aware of the fact that the Scots who escorted me just might be outlaws—in other words, if they were Jacobites, they were outlaws. Unless someone made a show of my being kidnapped, I might be considered a co-conspirator. If they took us to headquarters, I could say, truthfully, that I was running away from Colin as I feared he was going to force me—a young woman newly widowed—to marry him against my will. Colin did not own me, nor did any of his family, I was free to do what I wanted.

Suddenly we are turning into a copse of trees. I can hear horsemen of the road, but I do not turn around. I turn Rob Roy's head and follow the party into the woods, hoping that whoever we are hiding from, they have not seen us.


	15. Pursuit

The trees were just far enough away from the road that we blended in, but anyone who came close might see us. We had a good view of the road, and whoever it was following us would be seen before they saw us—thankfully. All the same, I wished I had a revolver like the one I kept at home. A "45" in your hand can be a tremendous confidence booster.

We dismounted and held our horses. I put my hand over Rob Rob's nostrils to keep him from making a sound. Fortunately, he didn't fight me, and stood quietly, showing his nervousness only by the swishing of his tail.

"Can you see who it is, Mary?" I asked her. She shook her head. It could be anyone, friend or foe was the problem. Colin probably knew I was gone by now, and he would have organized a party to search for me. And if there were any British soldiers in the area, I am sure he would have enlisted their help. That included Randall, his great friend, and that thought sent a shiver down my spine. I'd grab Mary's dirk and kill myself before I let him have me.

They were close enough that we could hear them speaking. I recognized Colin's pale blond hair, and Jack Randall in his red coat and his black que hanging down his back. Worse luck, I thought. Would they search the trees, surely they could see our tracks, the tell-tale signs of shod horses. We might as well hold up a sign that said, "We are here".

I saw Jamie draw his pistol, John drew his also and held it at the ready. As part of my job I've learned to shoot ancient weapons like a bow and crossbow, but not having one did me no good now. Angus and Murtagh drew their guns, but we were outnumbered.

I'm not religious but I said a little prayer. Then I looked, and coming down the road from the opposite direction was a group of about twenty riders, most clad in kilts, though a couple wore English clothes. I watched as they rode up to Colin's group and began to speak to them, first in Gaelic—as if they knew that Colin was not fluent in the language-then English.

"Jamie, Mary, Irina, stay here," said John, and he, Murtagh, and Angus rode out of the little woods, and joined the new group. They outnumbered Colin's party, and made it obvious that they were not the ones outgunned. A heated argument started up, and I could tell that tempers were flaring. If things didn't calm down quickly, they were going to progress to a very unpleasant outcome.

I handed Rob Roy's reins to Mary and went as close to the edge of the woods that I dared, trying to hear what they were saying. I could see Dougal, as well as some of the Scots who were at the mound on the day I was kidnapped. I also recognized some of the men from the household that Colin had enlisted to help find me. A few of them, at least, had no love of Colin, and maybe if I needed it I could count on their sympathy.

Mary hissed softly at me, "get back here", and I returned and took back my horse's reins. "Help's arrived," I grinned at her, "Dougal's there, and it looks like he's got enough men to persuade them that they are outnumbered, and outgunned. I don't who's going to back down, but I'd put my money on Colin, not Dougal. Colin's smart, and clever, but he doesn't have Dougal's experience. I don't think even Black Jack Randall is a match for Dougal—just from the little I've seen of him."

"Oh, ay," said Jamie, "We just have to be patient, and we'll be out of here and on our way. If Colin Campbell is spoiling for a fight, he won't win it, not unless it brings an army with him. Even Randall will see the wisdom of giving way—this time. We need to get to MacKensie lands as soon as we can, and I'm afraid that's going to mean hard riding for you, lass. Do ye think you're up to it."

"As long as I have food, the baby demands that I eat. If I start to fall asleep, someone can shake me awake and put me on the back of their saddle. I want to get to where Colin can't find me and force me to return. Number one, I don't want to, number two, I wouldn't give a brass farthing for the safety of me or my child if I'm under his tender care. I don't want him to raise my son as his own."

"And you're sure it's a boy?" said Mary, half in jest, I turned around and glared at her. "Just asking," she said, and let the matter drop. Personally, at the moment I didn't think her jest was all that funny."

"They can see our tracks, how can they miss them?" I said fretfully, "What's to stop them from looking for us."

"Dougal," said Jamie firmly, "He can be a persuasive man. All he needs to do is persuade them that they wouldn't care to engage his men. This is a search party looking for you. He's not in the company of his soldiers, his well armed soldiers, though I'm sure the men from Campbell's household are proficient enough in the use of arms. He probably doesn't know that you're with us, we could have taken cover just in case, there's bandits and highwaymen on the road."

It wasn't the strongest logic, but it might do. I crept closer again the edge of the tree line so hear what they were saying. I admired the attitude that Dougal was assuming: "We have the right to be on the road, just as you. We're here minding our own business, but if you want to pick a fight we won't back down. Go on about your business and leave us alone. If you lost this woman you're looking for, it's none of my concern, why did you let her get away in the first place?"

I wanted to lead Rob Roy out the back of the trees and ride on alone, I didn't care where. This was taking its toll on my nerves and my stomach. I'd left morning sickness behind, but my stomach reacted to a stressful situation before my mind did, or so it seemed. My stomach was starting to burn and I badly wanted something to eat. "Let this end soon," I prayed, "This is not the place I want to be sick."

I went back into the deepest part of the trees. Though I couldn't see much, it seemed as though Dougal had won the day. I got back on my horse, and followed Jamie and Mary out to the road.

"Ah, so we meet again, Mistress Campbell," Dougal swept off his cap and bowed.

"Under better circumstances, I hope, I see you persuaded Colin Campbell to leave." The smile on my face was that of genuine relief.

"Ay, I did, but now we must find somewhere to take you. She'll no be safe at Lallybroch, Jamie, the Brits are on the lookout for you, and I think that is the first place they'll search. Better for you and your sister if you're not there. We'll take you to Leoch, Mistress, the seat of the MacKensies, you'll be safe there, at least for a while."

Leoch, it was north, I remembered from the clans of Scotland map I'd seen at the tartan shop. Not far from…

"How far are we from Inverness?" I asked hopefully.

"Farther than we care to travel, and excusing my boldness, are you not going to need to rest for a while? When is the bairn due?"

"Five months from now, I hope. And I guess you're right, it wouldn't for me to take it easy for a while. I'm healthy, but this is my first child, and I know woefully little." Which was more than true.

"Well, you'll learn fast enough. And oh, twill be a week of hard riding, maybe more, depending on how well you can keep up."

"I'm a good rider, so don't you worry on my account. Just get me away from Colin Campbell's search party and I'll be happy." With that we started our journey, the large number of Scots surrounding me made me feel safe. I kept my hair hidden under the cloak of my hood whenever possible, when we road at night I could shake it loose and let it hang free.

I suddenly thought of something, "What are the chances that they will turn around and come after us?"

He shrugged his massive shoulders, "You know as much as I do about that. For now, they seem to believe you're elsewhere, and we gain nothing by sitting around and talking about it." No more need be said, he turned his horse around and we started heading north, hopefully with no one behind us.

Another ride through the night, and nothing but stale bannocks for breakfast. At least they built a fire. Mary and I wrapped ourselves in our blankets and huddled together for warmth. Already I was missing my soft bed and the warmth of Georgie beside me. I could see every detail of his face, the impossibly dark brown eyes, framed by long lashes, his dark brown hair, his long lean body. I wanted him to hold me again, whisper in my ear that everything would be all right.

I cried myself to sleep on the cold, hard ground, hoping I would have dreams of him, but my sleep, such as it was, was dreamless. I passed on the stale bannocks, taking only a few sips of scotch and some water.

Dougal shook his head, then motioned me to follow. He handed me the flask, and I took some more of the fiery fluid. "How old are ye, anyway, if you don't my asking?"

I shook my head, "I'm thirty," I said and he whistled.

"Would have taken ye for younger than that. Ye are old enough then, to have some sense. Would George Campbell want to see you like this? Would he not want you to take good care of your bairn?"

I nodded. Yes, he would. I could hear him right now, "Irina, you've got to take care of yourself and our child. He's my legacy, something of me that no one can take from you."

Words that I didn't expect started pouring out of me. "He was already dead when they brought him home. I didn't have a chance to tell him goodbye. And I think Colin was responsible for his death. He coveted the lairdship, but he coveted his cousin's wife even more. He wants me, he wouldn't be riding after me if he didn't; and he wants to make sure he has control of Georgie's heir. And I'm not too sure that my child would live to reach adulthood if that happens."

Dougal clapped me on the shoulder, "So you take care of the bairn's mother, and make sure your child is safe. You may not have an appetite, but ye need to eat when ye can so ye can keep up your strength. If Colin or the red coats don't follow us, there'll be a chance of fresh game, and food and shelter from the cottagers. I'm not saying don't weep, don't be sad. You are a young widow missing her husband, I would worry more if you didn't, but in the mean time, dinna take risks you don't need to."

We returned to the fire, and I obediently consumed the bannocks as if they were the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted. Dougal's practical advice touched me more than sympathy would have. His no nonsense advice was exactly what I needed. I didn't want pity from anyone, I had plenty of that for myself. Daily, no hourly, I lived in fear of falling into a deep depression, and I had no time for that. My baby was all I had left of George, at all costs I must keep him safe.

As soon as breakfast was finished, the fire was put out and we were on the road again. There obviously wasn't going to be much time for sleeping, but the more distance I put between myself and the Campbells, the happier I'd be.

I felt a fluttering, a tickling. I put my hand on my belly and could feel the tiniest of tremors.

I turned to Mary and smiled, who must have thought me mad. "I'm further along than I thought," I said, not caring who could hear me, "I feel the baby kicking—it's alive, it's healthy."

Mary crossed herself, "We've got to get you somewhere safe then, and soon. You shouldn't be riding all day like this."

"I'll be fine," I told her, and for the first time since Georgie's murder I believed it.


	16. Castle Leoch

It seemed like we rode and rode, like it was never going to end. There were too many of us now to sleep in the small farms, so we took to sleeping in the forest, safe from all eyes. But not frequently enough.

For me, I could have kept on riding until I reached Inverness. I wanted to try to return home, my home, before my pregnancy became too advanced. What was going to happen, anyway? Would I still be pregnant when I came through to my time, or would I lose my baby in the process? How would time travel affect it—it had been conceived in 1746, and I would be returning to 2014.

I didn't want to risk my pregnancy, I wanted to carry Georgie's baby to term, and raise him. I could afford to raise a child on my own, I could give him a good life, a rich life. My child would know England and Belgium and Egypt and the U.S. He'd see life beyond his own culture, learn how alike we all are, while still different. I love Egypt, love the people, love my work, yet I look forward to teaching in Chicago every year, too. I was fortunate in my life, now I wondered if I would lose it all.

As if by common consent, Mary and I always rode together. We were the only two women, and it was nice to have her to talk to. She'd give them a hard look if they stared too long at me or made an inappropriate remark, it was nice having her for a bodyguard. She waited on me, even though I didn't want her to, but I appreciated every little thing she did. When we reached Castle Leoch it would be nice to have her there, a familiar face in the midst of strangers.

It was almost noon, I think, and we'd been riding since sunrise when she took my arm and said, "Look miss, we're almost there. Can you see it in the distance? It's Castle Leoch, the seat of the McKensies. We'll have our first hot meal in days, and I will get you a nice hot bath and you can get into some clean clothes. Ah, it's going to be good to stay in one place, get off these damn horses. Just think, you can sleep all you want, eat decent food. We can even get some dresses made for you, it's too bad you had to leave behind all your pretty things."

Well, not all. He hadn't given me many, but I had some jewels from Georgie that I hadn't left behind, including my wedding pearls. I became suddenly melancholy, missing the Campbell lairds and Lady Campbell. Were it not for Colin, I could have felt at home there, but for the fact that I didn't belong. Besides, I was closer to Inverness now, and the standing stones—and maybe home.

I felt the baby kicking and tears started welling in my eyes. I wiped them away with my fingers so no one would see. I wanted to be in Georgie's arms again, but his body lay in the cold earth far away from me now. I could have been happy with him, I think. We had a wild, abandoned, kind of love; two crazy people who somehow found each other and could not get enough of each other, ever.

Mary looked at me, reached over and squeezed my hand. "Don't worry miss, it will take time, but some day it will be all right. Before you know it, you'll have your baby, and you'll think more of him than the one you lost."

I didn't think that was possible, and I didn't want to have my baby here. I wanted a modern hospital that could take care of any problem that came up. Women had had babies for centuries without the benefit of modern medicine, I would just have to resign myself to it.

It took another hour, I think, to finally reached the castle. Compared to the elegant chateau, Castle Leoch seemed like a hovel, but there were people milling around, passing in and out. These were the things I never saw much of at Chateau La Mere, as the junior lady I was isolated from it, plus it had been winter and most of the inhabitants had stayed inside. Leoch was old, built to be more fortress than residence from the looks of it. In another two, two hundred and fifty years, who knew what it would look like.

Jamie came over and lifted me out of the saddle before I could protest. "How are you feeling, lass?" he asked me.

I felt better than expected, honestly. My pregnancy felt safe and healthy, no cramps or pains to indicate I might be miscarrying. "Good," I told him, "But apprehensive. How are they going to receive me here? I'm Lady Campbell, the widow of your enemies."

"Dinna worry," he reassured me, "When the time comes, tell Colum what you told me. Ye ran away because ye believe your husband was murdered by his cousin, and ye fear for your safety. Ye can afford to pay for your keep, and that will help, just don't let him get greedy when he learns ye have the siller for it. He's not a bad sort, but he takes his duties as laird very seriously."

So had Georgie. He might have been a rake hell boy, but he was always conscious of his position and the responsibilities that went with it. And he took being a husband seriously, I was the most important thing in his world and he looked after me like I was more precious than gold. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the memory.

Mary took my hand, "Jamie, I've got to get her inside, she needs to rest." Once again she had rescued me. "Oh look," she said, "There's Mrs. Fitz. Take our horses, will you please, and I can get her taken care of. John!" She called, and he came, carrying our baggage. If I ever felt in the need of a housekeeper, Mary McKensie would be my first and only choice.

She took me by the arm and dragged me over to a woman who was as round as she was tall. She dropped my arm and hugged her, then introduced me, "Mrs. Fitz, this is Irina Campbell, she was married to Georgie Campbell and we helped her escape after he was killed." She hardly took a breath between words, "We're going to need a nice room for her, she's five months gone with child and we'll need to get things for the baby ready."

If Mrs. Fitz had any doubts about me, I think the word "bairn" won her over. "Oh, so you're expecting a wee one now, are ye? Well, we'll get you fixed up. Mary, take her to the kitchen and get her something to eat, whilst I see to getting her room ready. And I'll make sure there's a trundle for you so you can be with her at night." She bustled off, and I had to hold in my laughter. What was it with these morbidly obese women that could make them waddle so fast when you thought they'd barely be able to walk?

"I'm not hungry, Mary," I protested, but she ignored me.

"I've got to see to some hot water for your bath, and anyway, I'm famished. Ye can have some eggs and some bannocks, and they brew a good small ale here. By the time we're done, your hot water will be ready, and I can put your clothes away while ye take your bath. By the time we're done, the noon meal will be ready, and you'll be able to take a good look at the household. Colum will be watching you, but dinna worry about him. I think Dougal and Jamie will have put in a good word for you. The Campbell's are our enemies and you ran away from them, that will be a point in your favor.

I sighed. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and my stomach was rumbling. The baby wanted food more than I did, but both of us needed to be eat. Mary all but dragged me to the kitchen, and piled food on plates that I was sure that I could not eat—until I took the first bite.

Mary chatted away in Gaelic, and I noticed people looking at me, then looking away. I didn't know how fast gossip had spread, but people seemed to know I was a Campbell that had been brought to Leoch by Dougal and Jamie. It was well known that the Campbells colluded with the British. I was a Campbell only by marriage, but all the same, these people had better not say anything to my face about the people who had been so kind to me.

"Dinna let it bother you," Mary whispered in my ear, "They don't matter, and they don't know the whole story. Let them talk, it's only idle gossip."

Mrs. Fitz came and fetched us, and showed us to our—as I thought of it—room. I had to stifle an urge to giggle as I watched her waddling up the stairs. Mary gave me a dirty look, and all I could do was shake my head.

It was a big room, lots of space for a crib when the time came. Mary wouldn't need the trundle, the bed was roomy and had space enough for the both of us. It comforted me to have her sleeping next to me. I still had not resigned myself to Georgie's loss, and having her next to me in the bed helped. I could not bear that empty space next to me.

"Don't think about it, Irina," I told myself, "Don't think about it, don't think at all. Be here now in the present, it's the only way you'll stay sane."

I took a bath and washed the dirt from my hair. Mary cut six inches off my hair, and we decided to let it hang loose while it dried. If I had to talk to Colum, it wouldn't hurt for him to see me with my golden hair hanging down. I was a woman in desperate straits. I had left my home, my husband had been killed and left me widowed, and I no longer had the protection of the Campbells. I had to convince Colum to take me in, let me stay. I had a baby coming and I needed a place to have him in safety. Wandering was for kids, I had stopped living that life years ago.

Mary pulled out my one black gown—inwardly I groaned at the sight of it. Plain black, unrelieved, but of a fine material, as was all my Campbell clothes. Georgie wouldn't have wanted it, but I had to play the role. I'd grieve for him no matter what color I wore. Fortunately the gown seemed to suit me. May had found some jet jewelry and fastened a choker around my neck and put earrings in my ears. The little touch kept me from looking like a gloomy Puritan.

When I finally went downstairs for the noon meal, some of my courage had returned. When people looked at me I met their stares, I would not look down, I would not look away. My hair was still damp so I had not braided it, and now after it had been cut it fell to my hips. I was conscious of the image I presented, and used it for a shield.

I had been given the honor of sitting at Colum's table—the guest was being treated well by the laird, maybe for the benefit of the inhabitants of the castle. Though I hate Scottish cuisine, I ate well, guaranteeing that for a while the baby would stay quiet. The wine they served me was a welcome respite from small ale, and I did not refuse a second glass. I am used to wine at meals, I was raised on it. I can drink vodka, too.

We made small talk. How was my journey? Bearable for the most part, when we weren't looking over our shoulders for fear of being pursued (that part I did not tell them). I was pregnant? When was I due? (Does every pregnant woman get asked this question?) Where was I from? I can tell the truth here, "Brussels."

The questions he didn't ask, he might ask in private. Why were you running away? That would not be hard to answer. How long had I been married? Not long enough, but we had some months together—I might bend the truth a little with that one. Would he ask me how I met Georgie? That might not be hard to deal with, as a matter of fact, it might be one of the easier ones. I could fall back on my "I was studying the stone circle." For it was there I ran into Jamie, allowing myself to be kidnapped so he could get away. Would I get points for that?

He might ask me more, he might not. I had questions for him, too, that I could ask. Whose side was he on? Did he sympathize with the Jacobites, and if so, how far did his sympathies reach? Was he openly in support with their cause? Did his allegiance lay with the Crown? Or did he cooperate, or give the appearance of cooperating with them? That's what I'd do.

It all boiled down to the old question, why was I even here, why now during the rebellion. The stone circle was far older than that. I hadn't had a chance to do any investigating, run any tests to try to determine how old it was. Sten Ness is older than Stone Henge. There were Neolithic monuments all over Europe, basically dating from the same approximate time. The one thing they all had in common was that they all had been abandoned approximately at the same time.

I know a lot of the old stones are supposed to have magical properties, archaeologists get this all the time, in class or at faculty parties. Personally, I consider myself a very grounded person, but I am half Russian, and I think a belief in magic is almost genetic. Certainly my father was very superstitious, and he wasn't the only one in his family.

What I think now, well, what I think is that old line from Hamlet, "There is more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophies."


	17. To Pluck a Virgin

I watched Colum make his painful way up the stairs. it would have been easier for him if someone were to carry him, but he did want to appear helpless and weak. Toulouse Lautrec syndrome, what an awful way to live and not a pleasant way to die. What was it like for him when he was alone?

Someone came and tapped me on the shoulder. "The laird wishes to speak to you." I nodded, folded my napkin, and took leave of my hostess.

It's showtime.

I follow the footmen upstairs to Colum's chambers. They're pleasant, as it should be for an invalid. The pain is apparent on his face, and he doesn't rise to greet me as, but he knows I understand.

"Would ye like some wine?" oh these Scottish aristos and their refined accents—love 'em.

I shake my head no. "I'm tempted, but it's not good for the baby. I've had enough for the day, and night." I smiled to show that my refusal was not meant to be rude.

"Hmm, I had not heard that," and he probably hadn't. There are people in my time who still refuse to believe it.

"My lord, I am being careful, this child is my first, and even before it's born it has been exposed to such sorrow. I miss my husband, and I left Chateau La Mere for good reason. I believe that I am the reason that my husband was killed, I do not believe his death was an accident. I don't want to bring you trouble, but I need to find someplace safe to stay until my baby is born and we both can travel."

I lower my eyes, look sorrowful. Well, I am full of sorrow and grief. And fear. I do not know how far behind Colin is, if he's on the road behind me or if he's turned back and returned to the chateau. The baby I carry is the heir to the Campbell inheritance and as long as it lives, he will never be lord.

I won't go back, I can't go back. I will never see Georgie's grave again, but all that will lie there is bones. My child I can protect, and I will. If I have to throw myself at Colum's feet and beg for his help, that is what I will do.

He shakes his head as if he knows what I am thinking. "The Campbell's are no friends to the MacKensies, I will not let young Colin force you to go back. I don't know how safe it will be here for you, but what protection I can give you, I will, in thanks to your helping young Jamie."

"Thank you, my lord," I curtsy deeply, "Oh," I say before I turn to leave the room, "Are they giving you opium for the pain?" He shook his head, "Then I am surprised, unless it is not possible to find. It would ease the pain and help you sleep through the night, though I do not know if you would be able to stay awake during the day."

"I will ask my physicians, then, I trust you have knowledge of this?

I nodded and left the room. I wanted out of there, for I didn't know if I completely trusted him yet. My fate was in his hands, and I hated the thought of it.

That night, for the first time in days, I slept in a real bed. The baby was even asleep before I was. Mary's warm presence in the bed was reassuring, and sleep came easily. I didn't even dream but slept the sleep of exhaustion, deep, dark, and dreamless.

Sun was streaming in through the curtains when Mary came in, carrying a tray. "Good morning to ye, sleepyhead! Tis almost ten o'clock. The castle's been up for hours, but you lay asleep like a slug-a-bed."

I pushed myself up and stretched. I don't sleep late, but this felt marvelous. "So, Mary MacKensie, what are you doing up so early?" I teased.

"I'm not the one expecting the bairn. You look much better," she said as she set the tray on my lap, "Here you are, courtesy of Mrs. Fitz. The evil looking brew in the cup is supposed to strengthen your blood, but the rest is just good Scottish fare. And I suggest you eat the kippers so I don't have to make an excuse."

I made a face at her, but eat everything she brought me. For the first time since Georgie's death I actually felt—happy. Maybe it was my hormones, maybe it was sleep, maybe it was the feeling that a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, I actually looked forward to the day.

I had Mary and I had Jamie, I didn't feel alone as I had at first. Maybe being on the run, maybe getting away, maybe discovering that I didn't need all the pretty things I had left behind. I would have to make some adjustments—it wouldn't be safe for me to ride alone, especially since I didn't know the country—but I could ride, I could walk and enjoy the spring air. I could enjoy just feeling good, letting myself feel good. And when I had the baby, I could ride to Inverness and the stone circle.

I shivered, realizing that the thought of the stones made me feel afraid. How would my child be affected? Would everything be just as it was? It didn't matter if there was a risk or not, I wanted to go home. I was so homesick, for my family, for my job, for Egypt. Now that Georgie was gone, I just wanted to go home.

Even worse, I didn't know what to do with myself. I had made myself useful at Chateau La Mere because it was a role that I was expected to play, and I welcome being useful. What was I going to do here? The happiness I had been feeling disappeared.

I finished my breakfast—everything on my plate, even the evil tea and the kippers. Mary helped me get dressed in my homespun, and I put on my Doc Martins, which were holding up very well.

"What should I do, Mary? I've got to do something. I don't know how to be lazy."

"Do what always makes you happy," she replied, "Go to the stables. There's horses waiting to be trained, stalls and tack to be cleaned. Surprise them and show them how good you are. The fresh air will do ye good."

I put on my warm denim jacket over my dress and headed happily to the paddocks. Jamie was lunging a horse, whistling at it when it slowed. It all seemed terribly familiar, even if it was over 200 years in the past.

Jamie smiled and waved at me. I went over to him and took the line out of his hand. "A schooling whip's easier than whistling." He was surprised as he watched me, standing behind the horse as I had been taught, urging it at a trot as it went round and round in circles. I enjoyed the look he had on his face.

"My father trained horses in his spare time. He enlisted his kids," I said, then corrected myself, "his children as stable help. I was on my first pony at four, then riding a full size horse when I was twelve." The horse was starting to tire, and I pulled it up, rolling the lunge line and bringing it in. "Don't look so surprised, my father was the best horseman I've ever seen, and he taught us everything he knew. If I weren't pregnant I'd be getting on the green horses with you, but I won't take the risk."

"Well, Lady Campbell, I must admit you've surprised me." He smiled warmly.

"Don't call me that, my name is Irina. Lady Campbell died when her husband did. There's to be no mention of the name 'Campbell' until the baby's baptized—I won't deprive him of his true name." I sighed, trying not to think, but thoughts came unbidden. "I'm terrified that Colin is going to come after me. I won't go with him if he does, and he can't force me. I'm a free woman."

Jamie took me in his arms, "I promise ye, Irina, I won't let him take ye. Ye have the protection of Castle Leoch and Clan MacKensie, and me," he breathed into my hair. I looked at him and our eyes met and he drew away. So, he had felt the same thing I did.

This was the first time I'd had to confront my feelings for the red headed Scotsman. Since we first spent the night in the barrow, there had been something between us, something unspoken and undeclared. It had not been necessary for him to "check up" on me so often, but the fact that he did helped comfort me in the early days. I don't know if my marriage proved convenient for either one of us, but when he disappeared he had been sorely missed. And now I was having to confront my feelings.

Love? No, certainly not, but lust? Yes, oh yes. My husband was gone and I missed having a man in my bed. There was desire on his part, I was sure of it, now what I needed confront my feelings, and decide what it was that I wanted. I wanted a man in my bed again, and I wanted young Frazer, if he was willing. I went back to my room, scared of my desires, of what I knew I was capable of.

That night, Lady MacKensie sent me a dress to wear, a dark grey gown trimmed with black lace.

I held it to myself in front of the mirror. "At least they haven't tried to robe me in black," I told Mary, "I'm grieving in my own way, I don't need to be reminded of it every minute of every day. I don't need to wear black to know that I miss him. I lost my lover and my best friend, nothing can make up for that. I'd rather wear bright, cheerful colors because that's the way he'd want to see me."

All through dinner Jamie looked at me and blushed, he'd look away, then look again. He was torn, I could tell. How could I tell him that the behaviors and etiquette he had been taught from childhood didn't apply to me? I was something new to this time, an unknown quantity, an aberration. I was a liberated woman, always in charge of my life, excepting that brief interlude when Georgie came into it. Jamie wanted me, I could tell, and I wanted him, too. I would have to explain to him that there were rules he had never been taught, that if you desired an older woman, approach her with honesty, then place yourself in her capable hands.

When dinner was concluded, we gathered in the hall to listen to the Welsh minstrel. I tended to tire quickly of the poetry and the music, I'd rather listen to Steeleye Span, Pentangle, or the Silly Sisters. What I'd like to do is record his works, make a catalog of the song lyrics and poems. I had heard him speaking English, as well as French, and I looked forward to talking to him. Perhaps Colum could arrange it for me.

I slipped away as quietly as I could, and wrapping my shawl tightly around me, began to walk the halls. I liked the quiet, being away from people—I could return if I liked.

"Don't ye like the music, then?" Jamie surprised me and came up behind me, his footsteps muffled by the rushes. He put his hands on my shoulders, just out of reach, but not out of reach.

"Well, no. It's all right, but a little goes a long ways. I suppose you could say my tastes are—different."

"Like what? What do you like?" He was looking me in the eyes, whether to tempt me or not I didn't know."

"Well, I'll sing a stanza or two from a song I like." What the hell, I had a pleasant enough singing voice, good enough for singing with friends anyway. So I began to sing:

"Cam ye o'er frae France? Cam ye down by Lunnon?  
Saw ye Geordie Whelps and his bonny woman?  
Were ye at the place ca'd the Kittle Housie?  
Saw ye Geordie's grace riding on a goosie?

Geordie, he's a man there is little doubt o't;  
He's done a' he can, wha can do without it?  
Down there came a blade linkin' like my lordie;  
He wad drive a trade at the loom o' Geordie."

"Well," he laughed, "Ye sing a good Scots accent, and I think I've heard that song before. You're no a loyal Englishwoman if you'll sing that, then."

"I'm not an Englishwoman, I never was," I said, annoyed. "Even when I was married. I'm Belgian and I'm Russian, and I suppose if I have to be loyal to one I'll choose Belgium. Russia is too far way anyway." I took his hand, gently, tentatively, "Will you come with me?"

I led him to my room, put a log on the fire and lit another candle. "Jamie, do you know what I want from you?"

"Aye, and I'm confused. Ye lost your husband, but ye want me. How can that be?"

"Have you known many young widows? Yes, we miss our husbands dreadfully, but even worse is the empty bed we sleep in every night." I dropped his hand and walked over to warm myself in front of the fire. "It's like they take our personhood from us and turn us into a thing. What we need as much as sympathy is the knowledge that a man will want us again. We feel abandoned, angry, but we can't tell anyone, it's not proper." There was a bitterness in my tone that I did not bother to hide. "It wasn't just a husband that I lost, but a best friend, and a lover."

"Lass, I would love nothing better than to give ye comfort, but my father always told me…"

"To stay chaste until marriage? Trust me Jamie, virginity is a quality highly over rated. I lost mine when I was fifteen, and I'll bet Georgie had lost his sooner than that. Your father knew he had a handsome son who was fond of the ladies, and they were fond of him. He didn't want any little Jamies running around, and who could blame him? But you're a grown man now, you can make your own choices. And I'd as lief you chose to come into my bed and console me just this once. Who knows," I turned to him, "You just might like it. Might be worth burning in hell for."

We looked at each other, a long look, desire so plain on both our faces. Then he took me into his arms and began to kiss me. Long kisses, short kisses, deep kisses, kisses that tasted of whisky and brandy.

I let my shawl slip off my shoulders, then when we came up for breath, told him, "Hmmm, not bad a bad start."

"Well, I'm depending on you to teach me the rest," he teased, as he reached out to undo my laces.

"Well, I expected a little opposition," I confessed, "Though I'm glad you didn't object."

"Well, a beautiful woman tells me that she wants me and you think I'd object?" There was a twinkle in his blue eyes as he busied himself with removing my clothes. I pushed his jacket off his shoulders and began to undo his shirt and trousers. Soon we were skin to skin on my bed. I wondered for a moment, if I'd forgotten to lock the door. I hoped not.

His mouth found my breasts, already swelling with my pregnancy. A shiver went through me as his mouth found my nipples, my breasts the gateway to my desires as they always were. He explored me with his hands and his mouth, unsure of himself, yet eager to prove his manhood.

I pushed him off me, "My turn," I told him and turned him over, running my hands over every inch of him, taking hold of his cock, sliding my hand up and down to feel his hardness.

"Don't stop, lass, don't leave me hanging," he begged, and I rose and lowered myself on him, then began to move, finding my own rhythm. Had I ever had a virgin before, maybe without even knowing it? He took hold of my waist and showed me what he wanted, I accommodating him as much as my desire would let me.

Then he surprised me, he flipped me over on my back. "I think I have the general idea," he said, a wicked smile on his face. He moved, in and out, soft and deep until at last his passion took him and suddenly he exploded. "Mother of god," he said softly, "So this is why my friends teased me, I didn't realize what I was missing."

I laughed at him, held him tightly. "I'm forever in your debt for this, Jamie, you have no idea what this meant to me. Georgie liked you, he'd approve of what we did."

He lay on his side, "Would he?"

"Yes, he'd want me to be happy. You know, it sounds crazy but I talk to him. He wouldn't want me to stop living. It's going to be a long time before I marry again, if I marry at all. I'm not going to spend my life in mourning, but he'll always be in my heart. Does that make sense?"

"Ay lass, it does. And I'm grateful to you, for giving me this. I've never met anyone so generous with themselves as you. You were willing to be a decoy so I could get away, I worried about you, but then when I heard that you and the young laird were to wed, I felt better. And I was sorry to hear of his death."

"Yes, well, thank you. I just wish I could avenge it in some way, but that's not a thing to talk about right now."

He got up and started to dress. "I'd better get back, they'll be finishing up soon. I promise you, no one will know of this. If my mates notice something different about me, there's plenty of lasses to keep them guessing."

I took a handful of his crimson curls. "You're a gentleman, Frazer, that's nothing anyone can take away from you. As for what we did, I'd say it was time. You're twenty three years old, after all, can't remain a boy forever."

"I never intended to," he smiled, giving me one last, long, kiss. "Just don't name your bairn Jamie." I began to laugh outrageously as he exited out the door.

"Young women, they run, like hares on the mountain

Young women, they run, like hares on the mountain,

And if I were a young man, I'd soon go a'huntin'…"

Lyrics and music to "Cam ye o'er Frae France," and "Hares on the Mountain" sung and performed by "Steeleye Span" on their album "Parcel of Rogues" 


	18. Learning the Rules of the Game

One of my readers on Wattpad told me that she started watching the Outlander TV series because she liked my story so much. Wow! That is a really nice compliment!

I expected him to feel awkward and ignore me. After all, what we did was a rather spontaneous thing and I did entice him—make that seduced him. I'm thirty, I can deal with awkward. And I had been married to a very precocious twenty year old.

If that's what I expected, I was wrong. The next day I was in the barn, mucking stalls (a pastime which is much more relaxing than you'd think) when he came up behind me, pressing himself against me. He put his lips close to my ear and whispered, "Would ye come with me?"

"Behave yourself," I whispered, "I've got stalls to muck, and I'm barely half finished.

"Please?" Now, where have I heard that before? He might be twenty three, but he's just discovered a new toy that he can't get enough of.

"Hmmm," I said, teasing, "I have to think about this. Tell you what, you go start down at the end of the row and help me get these stalsl clean, and maybe, maybe, I'll go with you."

He made a face, but grabbed a shovel and pitchfork and began to help. At last we wound up in the same stall and he began to kiss my lips and neck—I was wearing too many clothes for him to be able to reach anything else.

What the hell, I thought, how many times had Georgie found me when I didn't expect him? We had been greedy for each other, and could not ever seem to get enough. Jamie had been an outlet for all the pent up craving and grief, and now I found myself wanting him again.

"All right," I said and put the fork away and followed him. He led me to a well-hidden corner of the loft and pressed me gently down. He started undoing my bodice as he began kissing me, and when his hands found my breasts, I was past resistance. I pushed down his coat and his shirt so I could feel his chest and suck on his nipples—sounds weird, I know, but men's nipples are as sensitive as mine. I began to run my hands over his chest, his shoulders and his arms, and then notice the hardness of the skin on his back.

I pushed him back gently, against his objections I turned his torso around and looked. I whistled through my teeth, "Whose bad side did you get on? This could have killed you, Jamie."

"Jonathan Wolverton Randall, of His Majesty's army." He was embarrassed, but I patted his back gently.

"I had a couple of run ins with him myself—the last one, he tried to abduct me on my wedding day. I imagine he paid a pretty price for that." I shook my head, "If he wanted you dead, why not kill you outright? That's kinder than killing you by inches like this." I lay back on the hay, looking at his young face.

"You've been in the world longer than I, lass, d'ye ken a reason?"

This was an easy question to answer. "Yes, Jamie, it's because he hates himself, so he has to take it out on the world. He prefers inflicting pain on others to facing the reasons why. He wanted to rape me, but I don't think it was me that he wanted, I think it was my husband, who wanted no part of him". I sat up and put my arms around him, "Hate him all you will, some day, when you're ready you'll be able to forgive him when you understand how truly miserable he is. You may still hate him, but you'll be able to put this in the past. Takes a long time though, I had some forgiving to do that I never thought would happen." Like my father, I thought, when I stopped hating him I realized he was just human, and he loved me.

"Enough of that," he said firmly, "I didn't bring you up here to say confession."

"I certainly hope not, but remember, we both have work to do." Well, I wasn't so very worried about working at the moment, and it felt good to lie with him, skin to skin. He was a little more sure of himself this time. I let him have his way, stopping him only when he grew too rough. He still had a lot to learn, a lot to explore, but I didn't know that I wanted the role of teacher in Jamie Frazer's life.

My legs felt weak as I descended the ladder, and he had to catch me. "Make sure no one finds out, Jamie," I told him, "That's my one rule and it's unbreakable. Oh, rule number two is if I tell you I'm not in the mood, it means just that. I don't care for people trying to coax me if I don't want to."

I went back to the castle and coaxed Mrs. Fitz into preparing a bath for me. I'd given Lady MacKensie some money and asked her to find some material for me so I could make both clothes and under garments. Mrs. F informed me the seamstress would be coming tomorrow to take my measurements and determine what style of dresses I would prefer, along with everyday clothing.

This was good news. Lady MacKensie was kindness herself, at least where I was concerned. I was the widow of the son of a high ranking nobleman, and I think she enjoyed having someone close to her rank, if not higher, for company. The cobbler would be coming soon to make shoes for me, and I could give my poor Doc Martins a rest.

Mary brought me some clothes, then brushed out my hair. It was growing fast, and thick due to the pregnancy hormones. I was almost six months along now and the baby was becoming more active. I enjoyed the sense of safety I felt, but feared to be too complacent. If English soldiers showed up here—which they might—could I use my Campbell name to help convince them to leave?

Therein lay the problem, I suspected that there was Jacobite activity going on clandestinely in the castle, maybe even with the laird's consent. And there was also the matter of Colin Campbell, I don't know how many here knew of my connection to him, but someone with less than honorable intentions might not think twice about alerting the English that the widow of George Campbell the second was hiding in Castle Leoch.

I left Mary and the servants to empty out the tub and began to walk through the castle. A fair haired girl, much younger than me came up to me and introduced herself.

"Laoghaire," I repeated her name. "I'm sorry, I haven't been paying much attention, I've seen you before. I should have introduced myself."

"Oh, that's all right, Lady Campbell, I'm really no one special," she said, her smile uncertain, "when is your bairn due?"

"Oh, in four months, I should think. The first usually comes later, especially at the end of your pregnancy and you wish that the baby would hurry up because you are just plain tired of being pregnant."

This made her giggle, she really was a pretty girl. Maybe not a beauty, but cute and seemed very sweet.

"It's true," I said, "You'll find out when you have your own. And please, call me Irina, I'm not really Lady Campbell anymore, now that my husband is gone."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, it must be very hard for ye." Well, she looked sincere, but I was wondering if there was a reason for this conversation, or if she was trying to be polite.

"Yes, I do miss him, I miss him very much. I loved my husband very dearly, I don't think that I will re-marry for a very long time."

"Even though your bairn needs a father?" It was an honest question in light of the times.

"Well, I'm rich enough to be able to give my child a good life. I think I'm going to return to Belgium and stay for a while, then go back to Egypt."

I enjoyed the look of incredulity on her face. Clearly she would not look beyond being a wife and mother, and she probably knew next to nothing about Egypt. There was a look on her face, though, that showed a curiosity to find out what it was about. Egypt seemed far away and exotic, something of a fairy tale for her, no doubt.

"I don't have my books anymore," I said, "But if you're really interested, we can talk sometime and I'll tell you about Egypt—the pyramids, the sphinx. I used to dream of them when I was your age."

She smiled, an open smile and thanked me. I took my leave and went up to my room to lay down. I took off my dress and wrapped myself in a warm quilt. Soon I was dead to the world, deep in a sleep of no dreams.

I woke suddenly, feeling a hand on my breast. I slapped it away, knowing who it was. I leaned over and lit a candle, and looked up to see him smiling at me.

"Not nice, Jamie, a very juvenile thing to do." I hadn't expected this, but it didn't surprise me. He was young enough to do things like this, new to the game, and were I his age, I might not have minded, I might even have enjoyed it. But I was thirty and pregnant and tired and all I wanted to do was sleep. I didn't know why I hadn't locked my door, or if I thought I had.

"Next time knock, Jamie. I'm almost six months pregnant, and I'm tired. You only do that with a lover of long standing. There are rules to this, you know. I may be a loose woman, but I do have standards. A young, horny male does not walk into his lover's chamber uninvited. I've slept with you twice, you aren't there yet." I looked up at him to see his reaction.

He was clearly unprepared for the word "horny", "loose woman" also caught him off guard.

"Ah, then it's 'no'?" He was standing there, an expectant look on his face. I didn't know if he was serious or not.

"Jamie, aren't there some serving girls or wives you could chase after? Someone who's been hoping you'll try to seduce them?"

"You're the only one I want."

I threw a pillow at him. "No, I'm not, there were girls before me, don't lie and tell me there weren't. " I thought of the line from Harold and Maud, discarded it, "I'm only the first, and I won't be the only. Go forth and fornicate, young Jamie. There are a lot of girls out there just waiting to be plucked, and I want to sleep." I put a pillow over my head to make my point..

He laughed, pulled away the pillow, and kissed me. "Get some sleep then, I'll see you tomorrow."

As he left my room I thought to myself, I need to put a stop to this. Jamie was young, attractive, at twenty three he was physically matured and clearly attractive to the girls of the castle. I had been selfish when I took his virginity, but there was no reason now why he couldn't behave like a healthy young man his age. And, though I did feel bad that I turned him away, he didn't need me to satisfy his lust.

When I went back to sleep, my dreams were disturbing, but no stranger than any I was having during my pregnancy. I was done with morning sickness, and I was not yet at the bulky stage, but I tended to have dreams that were very vivid, often so vivid I had trouble determining if something came from a dream or reality.

I had a long sleep, woke up feeling refreshed, but also missed breakfast at the main table, so I wandered into the kitchen and cadged some food from Mrs. Fitz. My pregnancy bought me allowances that might not have been allowed otherwise. All the women in the kitchen wanted to look at my stomach, feel if the baby was kicking—which was happening more. I ate bannocks and bacon, washed down with small ale, then went to walk in the herb garden, one of the nicest spots in the castle yard.

I'd studied medieval archaeology before I decided to major in Egyptology. One of the things I'd enjoyed was the study of medicinal herbs. They kept bees here in the garden, and I wondered if they used honey as an antibiotic as the Egyptians and the Romans did.

I knelt down and examined the echinacea, the flowers were pretty but odd with the cone protruding from the center. Echinacea was a handy thing to have around; I'd fended off more than one cold with Echinacea tea. I stood up and saw some poppies growing in the corner, opium poppies by the look of them and I had seen quite a few.

"Echinacea is good for colds," a pretty woman with hair as golden blond as mine stood watching me.

"Yes, I know, I've made use of it before," I turned and pointed to where the poppies were growing, "Who planted the opium poppies? Or does anyone even know what they are?"

"Someone might, Colum experiences a lot of pain sometimes. I'm Geilis Duncan."

"Irina Campbell." I now had a last name much easier to pronounce, though I clung to Bogdashevskaya.

"I know," she said, "I came to see if there was anything I can do for you. Lady MacKensie has asked if I'd be your midwife. You're what, around six months pregnant?"

"About. You know about herbs, and opium poppies, so I imagine you might know about delivering babies. It would be nice to have someone my age, instead of an old crone who'll frighten the baby as soon as he comes out of the womb."

She laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. If I were to fear a rival, it would be her, but we seemed to be getting along.

"You've got the young lasses here worried," she said with a smile, "They're afraid you might take Jamie from them."

"Well, you can set their minds at ease, I'm not interested. The only man I'd want is my husband, and he was killed. I'm not marrying for a long time. If any of them want Jamie, they are more than welcome to him."

Her mouth twitched, "You might tell young Laoghaire that, she came to me in tears, sure that you intended to marry the young Frazer and take him to Russia with you, or was it Egypt? Anyway, she was quite broken hearted when he ignored her last night."

"Oh." How to keep this brief and to the point and not give myself away, "Well I guess that explains her interest in my pregnancy and my husband. My husband was very young, but wise beyond his years. I neither need nor want Jamie, I don't know why they're worried."

"For the same reason women are jealous of me. Beauty can be a burden sometimes, and attract a lot of attention. Don't worry, I'll talk to young Laoghaire for you, and I'll see you tomorrow for our first official visit." She lifted a hand, and passed out of the garden and an opening through the wall.

"People come and go very quickly here," I murmured, Lewis Carroll had been more right than he thought.


	19. The Poisonous Lady

Geillis and I began to develop a friendship, but I couldn't really figure out why we seemed to be drawn to each other. There were things about her that felt odd, something that I could not quite put my finger on, yet we seemed to have enough in common that we were developing a friendship, if only by frequent association.

And wherever it was she came from, and though she was definitely an outsider, she was a very competent herbalist and midwife. This era wasn't my specialty; I didn't know how doctors were trained. Were medical studies based on knowledge from the Egyptians and the Greeks, or had that been abandoned as being too pagan? Geillis had acquired her knowledge from somewhere, and I would have trusted her before I trusted a doctor here, unless I was aware of his knowledge and skills level. Either way, no one but Geillis was going to deliver my baby.

She would have made a good OB/GYN. She had gentle sensitive fingers, and she'd explore my belly, making sure the baby was progressing. He'd, and I still thought of it as "him", begun to slow down a bit as he grew, but she assured me that things were exactly as they should be. I had a great deal of confidence in here, though I couldn't tell you exactly why, but the thought of her officiating at the birth filled me with a great deal of comfort.

We'd grown close enough that I was spending time with her, just for her company. I would help her in the herb room, crushing plants I did not know the name of with a mortar and pestle. I'd gone through the castle's kitchen garden and saving out one or two for seeds, I'd starting slitting the opium poppy pods, to see if I had been correct. I'd scraped and saved the resin, then brought it to Geillis and we'd made a tincture of opium for Colum to use. Geillis saved a little for me, but Colum would enjoy a better night's sleep. And with the seeds I saved, there would be a crop next year.

One afternoon we were having tea in her living room. The baby had been very active that day and was finally slowing down. I missed coffee, but I'd begun to appreciate the subtle, delicate flavor and aroma of tea. Lady Mackenzie took great pride in serving an exotic and expense brew, but Geillis served something better, and I don't know how she acquired it, unless it was from one of her herb suppliers.

I did not see much, no I never saw, Mr. Duncan, but this afternoon moans and cried of agony issued from the bedroom. Geillis jumped up, but she was not in time. Mr. Duncan stumbled from the bedroom, and had a violent fit of vomiting before collapsing on the floor. There was something strange about the smell, until I recognized it.

"Irina, you have to leave, I need to take care of this," but I grabbed her by the arm.

"Let the servants do it, we need to talk—somewhere we will not be overheard." I caught her eye and held it, so she knew it would do no good to object.

We retreated to the herb garden. I looked around nervously, "Are you trying to put your neck in a noose?" I shook her arm, "You're not the first wife to try to rid herself of an elderly husband, but you're asking to get caught. Stop this, now, he's not going to fully recover. He'll get better slowly, but he won't be in your way anymore, he won't be up to it."

"And what makes you think…no, you know enough to realize what I'm doing. Why should I stop, eventually it will kill him." I couldn't read the expression on her face, but indignation was one that was clearly there.

"It's too obvious, I don't hear much village gossip, but anyone who knows anything about strychnine will know what's going on. Stop now, all you need to do is let him get better, and then let him die. If they hang you it may take a good 15 minutes to die, and you might not necessarily pass out from lack of oxygen before you go. You've weakened his system, all you need to do is stop poisoning him, and he may die anyway. He's going to die now before he would have, isn't that enough?"

She looked at me, torn, clearly not knowing how she wanted to respond. Evidently she had not expected someone to know what she was doing; now she had to consider the possibility that perhaps I was not the only one who knew. I could guess at her motives, she was tired of an elderly husband, she had another lover, or maybe she was expecting a child. Either way, if she stopped it now, there would be no repercussions. But if she chose to not believe me, things would not go well for her, whether she wished to admit it or not.

"I'll think about it," she said at last, "The only reason why I'm not going to kill you for saying this to me is that I trust you. I think you said it because you're concerned for me, not for my wretched husband, and I appreciate that."

"I will not say anything to anyone. This is yours to deal with; you will have to face the consequences. I really don't want any other midwife, or, god forbid, one of these wretched doctors. Good bye, Geillis, make the right choice, please." I kissed her on the cheek and left.

It was an easy ride back to Castle Leoch, the village was not far and Rob Roy's smooth gaits made the ride as comfortable as it could be. I might consider switching to a side saddle, but did not know how reliable having help in and out of the saddle would be.

When I arrived, there was activity in the courtyard. Evidently someone was getting ready to make a journey that involved a good number of horses and provisions. I dismounted and handed my horse over to a groom.

"What's going on?" I asked Angus, not my favorite person, but he was prone to be loose lipped—possibly because of the high opinion he had of himself.

"Oh, just a little trip to survey things about the countryside. Nothing to worry your pretty head about, it's not good for the bairn anyway."

"I'm not exactly fragile," I said through gritted teeth, "But you're saying that makes me wonder if more is going on."

I spotted tall, lanky Jamie and went over to him. "What is this? Something spontaneous or something planned?"

"Something a little of both, we've heard rumors of the English coming closer to Mackenzie lands than Colum finds comfortable, so he's sending Dougal to see what's up. I'm going along, though I maybe shouldn't be; I've been eating my head off in idleness."

"Why shouldn't you? Are you wanted or something like that?"

"Ay, lass, something like that." He smiled ruefully.

"Well, Colum needs his men at arms, why not joint them?" What he was doing made no sense, he had Dougal's men to back him up, but it seemed to me that he was taking an unnecessary risk.

"I truly am bored. It doesn't suit me to hang around the castle and train horses all day. I need to be out and doing something." He tightened the cinch of his horse and took the reins. "I've been meaning to tell you this, be careful of Geillis Duncan; she doesn't have a good reputation."

"Probably because she's so beautiful that people are jealous, and she's married to the richest man in the village and therefore not available."

"No, that's not what I mean; people say she's a witch."

"Jamie, there's no such thing. People invent the most outlandish lies when envy is involved. I'll hazard a guess that she's an outside, too. The witchcraft laws were repealed in 1735, they will have to come up with something else to accuse her of. I know how ignorant the villagers are, but she's an herbalist and from what I've been told, a damn good midwife. Lady Mackenzie recommended her to me when I told her that this is my first baby. Russians are superstitious enough, but I think you Scots are worse."

"All the same," he said slowly, "You ought to be careful."

"Tell me," I challenged him, "Would Lady Mackenzie have recommended her to me if there if there was anything to worry about? She has nothing against me, and I've done her no wrong or caused her any injury. I'm not a threat to her position or family. I have a great deal of confidence in Geillis Duncan." Of course I said nothing to him about Geillis trying to poison her husband.

Something occurred to me, "I shouldn't go," he'd said. Instead of letting the thought nag me, I chose to ask him out loud.

"Jamie, is there a price on your head?" Don't know where that thought had come from, but suddenly it seemed to make sense.

"Ay, there is. I canna risk staying at my own home, so Colum has given me refuge here."

It didn't make sense. "You mean, you're in danger if you run into the English; you're in danger if you try to go home' you're safe, more or less, if you stay here; yet you're going to accompany Dougal and his men where the English might find you? Either this is male logic working, or you're not telling me everything."

He was looking at me, clearly not happy. Men don't listen to women in the twenty first century, in the eighteenth century that's even less likely to happen, but my father always told me that I was a born negotiator, and I was wasting my time being an archaeologist. Well, I use those skills a lot in my chosen field, you have to, and now I intended to push Jamie as hard as I could.

"Wait, you're looking for someone, aren't you? Someone to help your cause? Jamie, if the danger is that great for you, why don't you just get out of Scotland—it's the only way you can breathe freely and not have to look over your shoulder. I have enough money to get you to France, and maybe enough to support you for a month without doing too much damage to my savings. I know about Randall and I've seen your back, as long as you stay here, you're in danger." I folded my arms and looked at him, thinking, well?

"I can't leave…." He began, but I cut him off.

"You can leave, Jamie, you just choose not to. Just don't go warning me off Geillis Duncan, when something much worse is hanging over your head. I'm in as much danger being the widow of a Campbell, as I am associating with her. And I enjoy her company, more than I do any of the women in this castle. Go, put yourself at risk, just stay out of my business." I turned and left, not the way I'd intended to say goodbye.


	20. Clair

I want to thank, really thank, those of you on Wattpad who have supported this story. On one particular fan fiction site, this story just hasn't gotten much buzz, a total of 16 "reviews" (though more favorites and followers) and I don't understand why.

Fan fiction can mean a lot of things, but the best fan fiction stories are the ones that take canon, and turn it into entirely different. Some readers expect the same pair ups, the same basic story line, but to me fan fiction is about taking the story and turning it into something your own. True fan fiction inspires, to me, but goes its own way. I've read stories where all that has basically been done is to maybe (or maybe not) add an OC or two, then the resulting story consists of the original being re-told. That's not writing, that's copying.

So here's to all of you who take a story and spin an entirely different one. That to me is true fan fiction, borrowing the canon, perhaps, but writing your story, your own story.

And ignore Diana Gabaldon, think of all the wonderful Outlander fan fiction out there in the fanverse, and how much we'd miss it if it weren't written.

The men had not returned, my due date was growing closer, and it would be harder now to ride to see Geillis than it had been before. Riding in the cart was bumpy and uncomfortable, and before I reached my destination my back hurt unbearably. I was going to do something I absolutely did not want to do: I was going to take to my bed for the last month or so of my pregnancy.

The women of the castle found this perfectly reasonable, I hated the thought of it. I didn't even like to spend the day in bed if I was sick, and I was not sick all that often. Mary put in a supply of firewood, and procured a number of candles for me so I could spend my time reading. Colum leant me some books, and a portable writing desk so I could write while lying in bed. He promised to replace books as I read them, and he had a generous library so I would probably not run out of things to read. Even better, some of these would go out of print long before my own time, and I'd have the opportunity to read things that scholars only dream of.

"Normal" women in this era would be sewing their baby clothes, but I could not sew and was not about to bother to learn. The women of the castle pitched in, and everything from baby blankets to nappies was being made for me by loving hands, and the cradle that had sheltered young Hamish had been fetched and was being made ready for my own little one.

"Do ye have a name for it yet?" How many times did I hear that question? I couldn't bear to think that far ahead, but I promised myself his name would not be "George". I'd give him my own last name, unless that name proved a danger to both myself and him. By all rights he should have the surname "Campbell", but I did not want Collin to hear of him. If I knew of a neutral clan, I'd pick that name, but things around here did not lend to neutrality. Using the name "MacKenzie" seemed safest, and Colum seemed to agree.

I liked the name "Callum", and "Robert" seemed to fit as a middle name. "Callum Robert MacKenzie" seemed like a very good name, and that was how I was going to have him baptized. If he turned out to be a girl, I might name her "Campbell" and give her my mother's name, "Jaquetta" and "Louise" for a middle name. "Jaquetta Louise Campbell" might not arouse too much suspicion. Since my mother was Catholic, and I had nominally been baptized in the Catholic church (no Russian Orthodox churches being handy), I could have my baby baptized in the local church. Lord and Lady MacKenzie had consented to be godparents.

So far, I had things covered, I thought, then one day Geillis failed to show up and I wondered if my worst fears had been realized. Had her husband been aware that she was poisoning him? If so, my advice to her could prove fatal and I regretted advising her to stop, maybe the wise thing would have been for her to finish the job. Had she received word of an impending arrest and fled? If that was the case she could possibly succeed in getting away. Geillis was a smart girl, and could use her wits and her beauty on the British if they caught her.

But she was not well liked in the village. If her husband had recovered sufficiently and pressed for a trial, the villagers would not be kindly disposed towards her. My due date was getting close, and she was the only one I trusted to deliver my baby, though there were several women in Castle Leoch who would gladly help me, including the Lady.

I don't know how, but they coaxed me into taking to my bed. Lying down took the pressure off my back—somewhat—and I was finding that I was glad I had taken their suggestion. I suppose I hadn't realized just how tired the latest stages of my pregnancy were making me, though plenty of women worked until they delivered and went back to work shortly afterwards. In the meantime, I was just grateful for the chance to rest.

Soon I realized that I hadn't seen Geillis for a week. I became concerned, knowing how precarious her situation might be. I ought to ride over and check on her, I told myself, I wouldn't go in that damned cart, but would I be able to ride? It wasn't like I couldn't sit up and walk around. It would be awkward with my big belly, but if someone could saddle a horse for me, I'd see if I could mount and dismount by myself. I'd have to take it slow, and my back was hurting, but I wouldn't be able to rest unless I knew she was all right, What a terrible time for the men to be gone, Jamie certainly would have obliged me, and John MacKenzie would have too, but he was with the men.

I hauled myself over to the edge of the bed, feeling unsteady after a day on my back. This baby must be a boy, my belly so big and he'd been active for the longest time. I've been around women in the villages, we'd even given one or two a ride to the hospital when it became obvious that they wouldn't be able to deliver safely on their own. I'd never really intended to have a child and only knew the basic knowledge of pregnancy and childbirth, but nothing had prepared me for this.

Mary came into my bedroom. "Mistress, what are you doing out of bed?" She didn't even give me a chance to argue, but steered me back into my comfortable bed and pulled up the quilts. "You ought to be resting," she told me severely, and with that look on her face I knew it was no use arguing with her.

I motioned her closer to me, "It's Geillis Duncan, I'm worried about her. The women here don't like her, so there's no use talking to them. Someone needs to see what happened, listen to the village gossip, but don't take it for granted. There's a reason I'm worried, Mary, but it's best if you don't know. Can you use that MacKenzie nose of yours and see if you can figure out what's going on? Tell anyone who asks that I sent you to fetch some comfrey and peppermint from her—I use it for nausea. If you can get in the house, see if it looks like it hasn't been disturbed, if it has, you'll know. Can you do this for me?"

The look on my face must have convinced her. "Ay, mistress, if you want me to act a part, I'll do it for you. I don't much care for her myself, but she's taken good care of you, and for that she has my concern, too. Just, please, promise me you'll rest."

I nodded my head. Mary was a good girl, and I could ask for no better. She had helped me escape, and kept an eye out for me so I knew what was going on. I couldn't tell her my secret, but I wondered if she could adjust to the twenty first century, probably not, but I would miss her when I finally did leave. She and Georgie would hold a piece of my heart when life at last returned to normal.

The men came home that night, and I was in no shape to go downstairs. I promised myself I would start walking more so I would not feel so weak. I'd had as much bed rest as I wanted. I could hear, though, the sounds of voices, picking out the ones I recognized, hoping someone would come upstairs to see me since I couldn't be with the rest. It would be nice if Jamie would come to see me, but young Laoghaire might distract him into a corner. Couldn't much blame him, she was pretty and young. I'd fooled around with Jamie as much as I intended to, and now the baby would distract me from any more fun and games for a while.

"Someone to see you, mistress," Mary said brightly as she brought my supper to me on a tray. No, it was not Jamie, the someone peeking behind her was much shorter and dark—Angus had come to pay his respects.

"How's the bairn, ma'am?" he asked respectfully as he came into the room. Angus was a puzzle I hadn't yet figured out. He'd taken sort of a shine to me, but there was nothing but respect to it, no ambitions as far as I could tell. At first I'd dismissed him as someone who saw the beauty with the long golden hair, but it wasn't that. It was, perhaps, a tentative friendship he offered to someone who had no one but her maid.

"I brought you something," he said, and handed me bundle wrapped in cloth. Inside was a silver baptismal cup, and I was touched when I saw it.

"This is lovely," I said as I inspected it, "This must have been expensive, I hope…"

"Ah," he said, "It was one of those things that I didn't have to pay for, if you catch my drift."

"Oh," I said, then laughed, "Well, I'm glad you thought of me, then. When he grows up, I'll make sure he knows who gave it to him, and appreciate it the more."

He tipped his hat and almost scurried out of the room. "Don't tell me I've made a conquest, Mary, that's trouble I don't need. So, any news from the men?"

"Oh, ay, but not much, it seems they found a Beaton and brought her back with them." I thought about the Joan Baez song, "There's Mary Beaton, and Mary Seton…"

"A Beaton, ma'am, a healer. Jamie says she was dressed in the oddest clothes, barely covered, but she seemed like a daecent woman."

The hairs on the back of my neck started to prickle. "Where did they find her, did he say?"

"Near Inverness, near Cragh Na Dun," Mary replied, "I've not seen her yet, but if she's a healer, would you like to talk to her?"

My heart was starting to pound. Inverness was where Georgia had found me. I'd been sucked into the eighteenth century by a power that could only have come from the stone I had fallen asleep in front of. I had to talk to her, find out if it really was the same place.

"Mary, could you ask Mrs. Fitz if she would send her to me tomorrow, let the poor thing get settled in first, of course. Now that Geillis has disappeared, maybe she might be willing to help." Mary nodded and turned to go, "Oh, and Mary?"

"Yes, ma'am?" she asked.

"See if you can find Jamie, and ask him to come see me if young Laoghaire isn't keeping him too busy. If not today, tomorrow for certain."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, and I began to eat. Eating somehow was a comfort, but I was making sure I did not over eat. I didn't have a real doctor, I had no idea how much I weighed. No blood pressure gauge, but I felt all right so I wasn't worrying about that. Up until a few weeks ago, I'd been as active as I possibly could. I wished now that I'd read up on pregnancy, except for those village women, I had no experience with it.

The baby started to move, something he did (and I still thought of him as "he") when I ate. He seemed strong, healthy, and had finally dropped, so I knew the birth was not far off. Geillis had told me he was in the right position, so barring anything unusual, this should be an ordinary delivery, for which I was very grateful.

Where was she, anyway? I hoped that nothing had happened. If she had escaped from her husband, that was a good thing. I didn't ask anyone in the castle, no one seemed to care for her anyway. Poor Geillis, for all of her beauty and self confidence, she seemed like an orphan, so out of place.

I sighed and pushed my plate away. I picked up a copy of Plato's "The Republic". Had it only been a few months since Georgie told me it was his favorite book? I was deep into reading "The Parable of the Cave", when I heard a light tapping at my door.

Jamie stood, all six-foot-three of him, smiling. He came and kissed me, and put his hand on my belly. "Any time now, yes?" He seemed as proud as if he were the father.

"Any time," I agreed, and thought about Geillis, "Jamie, check on Geillis Duncan, sooner than later, if you can. I need to know if she is all right, I'm worried. I know there's women who can act as midwife, and Geillis assured me this would be an unremarkable delivery, but she's the one I trust. It's been over a week since I've heard from her, and that is not like her. She's been so helpful, and I like her." I finished, helplessly.

"Yes, I promise, if you're fretting it's no good for the baby, but someone is here who might help you."

"The new Beaton?" I queried.

"Ay, though she calls herself a nurse. I'm sure she'd come and see you, do you want me to ask. She's not busy right now, I think, she might not mind."

"If you ask her nicely, and makes sure she's up to it," I replied, emphasizing that she must feel like it. I felt shameless over what I was about to do.

He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, "Yes, madam," he said and smiled, "I'll see if she's willing to be fetched."

"Take my tray," I told him, and he picked it up without objection. I needed Mary in her if I did get to talk to this strange new person.

Mary came in with a bottle of wine, a gift from Colum. Soon Jamie returned, a brown haired woman, around my age, I guessed, on his arm.

"This is Clair," he said, "I'll leave the two of you, Mary can fetch me if you need me." Mary closed the door him.

Clair was frightened, but holding her own. I looked at Mary, "You're going to hear some things you won't believe, but do you promise to remain silent?" Mary nodded, my good girl and friend.

I looked at Clair, "What you say to me won't go beyond these doors. Don't bother lying to me, I have a tale to tell that may be as strange as yours." I leaned close to her as I asked her my next question, "What year was it when you came through the stones?"

Her face turned white as I asked her, and I knew I had my answer.


	21. A Joyous Event

I struggled to my feet and went over to where she stood and put my hands on her shoulders. I was maybe only an inch or so taller than her, but I was able to look down at her. "Tell me, Clair," I said insistently, "What year was it when you came through the stones.."

Unfortunately she was not able to answer, for at that precise moment my water broke. Mary was by my side in an instant, pulling off my wet nightgown and dropping a clean one over my head. (Not that it would remain clean for long) She and Clair guided me back to my bed, and tucked my under the covers. Clair stood and looked at me while Mary murmured, "I'll go get the midwife."

"Well," I said, "Do you have any experience with delivering a baby?"

"I was a nurse on the battlefield for four years; I haven't had a lot of experience with obstetrics."

"World War II?" I asked, and she nodded. "Was the war over when you left?"

"Yes, it was 1945, and my husband and I were on our second honeymoon." She didn't get to elaborate much further than that, because Mary appeared, the midwife and Lady MacKenzie following.

Everyone was gathered around my bed, and I wished they would go away. I wanted to keep talking to Clair about how she got through the stones.

"Have your pains begun?" the midwife asked solicitously, and when I shook my head told me, "They will soon. Would you like a rope to hold onto?"

"I can sit behind her, and hold her," volunteered Clair, "That should help." I was grateful for my combat nurse willing to wade into this with me. And this would be for the long haul, first babies, especially, never came quickly, as a rule.

And soon the pains began in earnest. I tried to remember what I'd read about Lamaze breathing, tried to pick something to focus on, but it was hard. Not impossible, but hard. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Oh what I would give for a modern hospital now, all sterile and gleaming, and wonderful drugs to help ease the pain. Unfortunately I wasn't in 2013, and I was having to do this the old fashioned way. I began to wonder why women chose natural deliveries.

It was eight hours of breathing, screaming, crying, swearing at whoever was closest to me. I hoped I hadn't insulted anyone, but I wasn't exactly responsible for what I was doing. The pain was unbearable and I thought of those poor village women in Egypt who did this all the time—by comparison I was a coward.

At last he started to crown, and with a few more pushes and a lot of blood, he was out. Clair laid him on my stomach while the midwife cut the word, and I was able to see I had delivered a healthy, bonny boy. A beautiful boy with some dark, downy hair on the top of his head.

The women helped clean up me and the baby. The midwife warned me that I would bleed, but it eventually it would stop, though it may take a few weeks. They put me to bed and handed me my son, my baby boy. I put him to my breast and I began to nurse him, feeling his pull on my nipples, as well as my uterus contracting. Nursing would make both of us stronger, so I didn't mind the pain. I also didn't mind being bed ridden for another six weeks, if it gave my body a chance to heal.

When they asked me if I wanted a wet nurse, I refused. When I was too tired or feeling too weak I would appreciate it, but I wanted to nurse my own child. He was all I had left of Georgie and I was going to hold him close to me. Someday, when he was old enough, I would tell him about his father, and how much I loved him. Someday I would give him back his real name.

"And what are you naming him?" asked the midwife, and I had my answer ready.

"Callum Robert, and with the permission of Lord Colum, he will have his last name MacKenzie." Colum, his wife and I had discussed it, and we'd decided that the MacKenzie name would keep him safe, for a while. Colum was making him his ward, and giving him what protection he could. My nightmares were full of the image of Colin riding up to Castle Leoch with a company of men and demanding that the baby, and myself be handed over to him. Hopefully Colin was enjoying himself being the new heir, and wouldn't give me a thought, but I didn't count on it.

At a word from Lady MacKenzie, everyone except Mary left. My room felt quiet and peaceful. I felt like I had been through some magical experience, everything felt so surreal. It was if I had stepped through a mirror in one of my grandmere's fairy tales. I was utterly, blissfully happy.

There was a light tapping at the door, and Mary admitted Jamie, cleaned up from his journey, smelling of soap. He smiled at me as he came in, looking at me, and the cradle that had been prepared for my wee Callum.

He came and sat next me on the bed, asking, "Can I hold him?"

"When I'm finished nursing. He'll be asleep, but he's going to spend a lot of the next three months sleeping, which will give me a chance to get lots of rest. After that, he'll be more wakeful, and I've got to decide what I'm going to do."

He watched me with a little too much interest, but I ignored him. "If you want to get back to Inverness, that won't be a good time. Ye'll need to wait until the roads are passable, and ye can find an escort. It's safest to travel in a group, but I doubt that ye'll be wanting that."

"No, Jamie, I won't. All I want to do is to get to Inverness, after that I'll be fine on my own, in fact, I prefer it that way."

"If ye don't mind my asking, why…?"

"Jamie, I'm sorry but I do mind your asking. Please understand, this is very personal, as queer as it sounds. All I can say is that I have something important to do there, and it involves only me. Getting there is going to be the hard part, once I'm there I'm home free."

He looked at me, clearly puzzled, but I couldn't answer his questions. Like the others, he was very kind to me, we had a brief, satisfying love affair, but now what I wanted most was to get on with my life.

Some pieces of the puzzle fit and he understood. I had to avoid the Campbells at all costs. Hopefully Colin would lose his interest in me, and my child, and I wouldn't have to worry about him. I had nightmares, though, of Colin showing up with a large company of men, demanding the return of me and my baby. I had become aware that I had become something of an obsession with him. I wondered if he had hired Randall to kidnap me on the day of my wedding. I wonder what would have happened if he had hidden me so effectively that none could find me? What would his plans had been—raping me as he'd attempted to do the day I escaped?

I looked up to see that Jamie had not left. "Jamie," I asked, "Could you perhaps do me a favor?"

"If I can, my lady," he responded, and smiled.

"Have you done anything about finding Geillis?" I looked down and noticed that my baby had fallen asleep. Mary took him from my arms and placed him in the cradle.

"I know you're being careful, but going into the village might be safe, yes? Can you see if Mr. Duncan is still alive—however much alive he is. Check the stable, check the house and see if someone ransacked it, or looked for something. If nothing else, see if there's a body on the property. Maybe ask around the village to see if something happened to her."

"Why?" I'd piqued his interest, he was starting to follow my train of thought."

"What if nothing happened to her? What if she just left, say, in the dead of night when no one would notice. Maybe she's not dead, or jailed, maybe she's just gone."

"Well, when you're around, life is certainly not boring. You just had a child, but you're trying to find a person who may or may not have gone missing. I pity the man who marries you, unless he's a Georgie Campbell, ye'll lead him on a merry chase." He kissed me and left, which was a good thing. One, I was very tired, two, Clair's arrival had made me think.

Geillis, Clair, and I were tall, much taller than the women here. Geillis and I were the same height, and in this day and age, very few women reached five-eight. There was something about Geillis that set her apart. At first I thought it was her stunning beauty, by our age women in this time and for a few centuries to come started aging. I had not asked Clair how old she was, but I was sure the three of us were approximately the same age.

Geillis had not revealed her plans to me, but it was not unlikely that she had decided to go on the run. If her husband kept money in the house, she might have known how to retrieve it, a lock box is not all that hard to break into.

Maybe she was afraid her husband would discover she had been poisoning him, if that was the case, maybe she'd decided to flee. That's what I'd do. And where would she flee? I was betting that she'd run to Inverness and the stone circle—the exactly place I needed to return to.

I wish that she'd waited for me, I missed my friend. Two women on the road with an infant, maybe an escort, but with pistols under our cloaks. I don't know if she was involved with the Jacobite cause or not, but I wasn't. If we ran into soldiers, between the two of us we might be able to charm them into helping us. After all, had the villagers not called us "the two beauties"?

I lay down and fell into an uneasy sleep, only part of which, I am sure, was caused by the birth. Tomorrow I would have a long talk with Clair, tell her where I came from, tell her about Georgie and Colin, and find out what she wanted for herself. Maybe, if she wanted badly enough to return, I could arrange for us to return to Inverness. Or so I hoped.


	22. Here and Back

When I woke, I took my baby and put him to my breast—I had a lot of this to look forward to. I'd never given thought to children; they weren't part of my plans; now I wondered why I'd waited so long. He was small, dark, and perfectly formed, and already felt like a part of me. I just wished Georgie was here to share this miracle with me. I brushed the tears from my eyes, how long would it take before I could think about Georgie and not cry.

As he nursed, I let my mind drift, and my mind wandered to Clair. I hoped when they found her she hadn't given then a story that was so obviously unlikely, such as "my carriage overturned and my groom was killed". A story so obviously contrived as that would arouse suspicion. I never knew what Georgie had thought about the reason I'd given him. It was essentially true, but had been no reason at all. It was honest in a way; I didn't know how I had gotten there. The gods must have been with me, or maybe it was fate, but I'd caught Georgie's eye and won his trust. The fact that it had been a scant two days after that that we had gone to bed for the first time didn't hurt. I'd had nothing at all to offer, except myself and my looks, Claire at least had a talent that could win her a place in the castle.

Mary came in to check on me, and I asked her if she could bring Claire. She nodded, looked at me a little strangely, but she didn't know the connection that Claire and I had. For that matter, neither did Claire, but she was about to. No one knew my secret and it ate at me sometimes. I had no one I could tell, no one to share it with, but now that was going to change. I would keep Claire's secret and she could help keep mine. I felt like a burden was lifting off me.

Mary brought Claire in, and took the baby from me. She cleaned him up and changed his nappies, then placed him in the cradle. I nodded to her, and she left the room, confused but she understood.

"Sit down Claire," I said and motioned her to a comfortable chair. I poured brandy for the both of us, handed her a glass then sat down, with less pain than the day before. Thank god I was healing. "We started a conversation that we never got to finish, so, what year was it when you came through the stones?"

I could see the alarm in her eyes, well, I didn't blame her. Though she was now clad in the clothes of a middle class eighteenth century woman, that wasn't how she was dressed when they found her.

"You know then," she said softly, "You know about me—how?"

"Were you at the stone circle outside Inverness?" I persisted, "Did you fall asleep at the foot of the tallest stone, the one with the sharp angle at the top?"

"No, I touched it. I was curious about it, and I just reached out and touched it with my hand. The next thing I knew I was unconscious then suddenly came to. Everything looked the same; it wasn't until I started walking back to my car that everything changed everything. I saw English soldiers and Highlanders fighting, and tried to run away. Someone found me and dragged me to relative safety, Jamie, the boy with the red hair." She shrugged helplessly, "It was no use trying to struggle, I knew I was trapped and something was terribly, terribly wrong."

"But, what year was it Clair? What year did you come through the stones?" I persisted.

"It was 1945, the war had ended and my husband I needed to get away, to get to know each other after a long separation. Someone told me about the circle and I wanted to see it." She let out a long breath, "I still can't believe this is real." She narrowed her eyes and looked at me, understanding, "What year did it happen to you?"

"Two thousand thirteen," I told her, and she looked startled, a sort of deer in the headlights look in her eyes, "I'm an archaeologist at the University of Chicago. My mother is Belgian and my father is Russian. My mother had passed away and asked me to visit some friends of hers in Scotland. I didn't really want to, but I promised her I would. I was staying at a little inn outside Inverness, and a man the owner had introduced me to told me about this. He wanted to come with me, but I told him I wanted to see it by myself. Guess I should have let Mac come with me after all."

But if Mac had, there would have been no Georgie, no little Callum. How could I regret that? I'd met the love of my life because of the stone circle, and how could I regret that. Then a thought came to me. What if Mac knew about the magic of the stones? Was that why he'd wanted to come along, or was it for my company? Mac was certainly handsome, definitely sexy. I think Mrs. Struan knew what she was doing when she introduced us, encouraged us to go into the parlor and have a drink or two in front of the comfortable peat fire. God, how could I regret any of this? The only bad thing was losing Georgie, and now I just wanted to go home.

Claire clearly didn't know what to say, so she just started talking. "My parents are dead; I was raised by my uncle. I was a nurse working the front lines during the war; I met my husband we fell in love, knowing we were in for a long separation. I was just out botanizing, I'd been to the circle with my husband before, and saw a plant I wasn't familiar with. I was going to get a sample, and suddenly looked up and noticed the stone. I touched it, and I was sucked into this whirlwind, it seems. I'm trapped here, and I want to go home."

She stopped, a thoughtful look came over her face, "Do you think we're the only ones?"

And I told her what I'd begun to suspect. I told her about Geillis. I was going to continue, but at that moment, Jamie came into the room, smelling pleasantly of horse, my favorite smell in the world.

"I came to see the bairn, is it all right?" He looked at me, then took a long look at Claire. "I see you two ladies have made your acquaintance."

"Yes, he's sleeping and he'll be a little fussy if you wake him, but he'll live. He's a good baby, a good eater, easy to convince to sleep. Wait a few more months and he'll be a fun baby to be around."

Jamie picked him up with a delicacy you would not expect for someone his size. "Hello there wee one," he said in English, then began cooing to him in Gaelic. I looked at Clair and we both shook our heads. "Men," our looks said.

"So, how do ye fair, Mistress Claire?" he asked, "I see ye've made the acquaintance of our other stranger."

"That's me," I spoke up, "And up until your arrival, I was the lone stranger here. It's comfortable, but I want to go home as soon as I can, though it may take a few months." I held out my arms, "Give him to me, Jamie, Claire and I would like a little privacy." He handed me the baby and kissed me on the cheek on his way out." Finally, I thought.

Claire looked at me and smiled, "What was that?"

"That, my dear, was Jamie. There's a lassie here by the name of Laoghaire who's set her cap for him, she'll gladly scratch out your eyes if she thinks you're competition. Good thing for her that she didn't try that with me. I'm a brown belt, and can handle myself.

"Brown belt?" Claire was clearly confused.

"Karate," I clarified for her. "My father insisted, he wanted to make sure his sons were strong and disciplined, and his daughters able to defend themselves—from their dates, I'm sure. The martial arts are as much about discipline as they are about fighting."

"Oh, I see." Clearly she didn't, but it didn't matter. Laoghaire would gladly have erected a barb wire fence around Jamie with signs that read "Private Property, He's Mine" if she could. As far as I could see, Jamie didn't treat her any differently than the other girls in the castle, and there are some pretty young lassies here. "I was surprised when I found out…" I cut myself off, no need for Claire to know that I had been responsible for Jamie losing his virginity that was strictly between him and me. Fortunately I'd just had a baby so he wouldn't be able to try to find his way into my bed for a long while.

I could tell that Claire had enough for one day. It was a lot to absorb, after all, was it a comfort for her to know that I had come through the stones, too? To meet someone from the twenty first century might have been a bit of a shock, it was enough for me just to have this experience and no explanation for it. That the stones would be magic, have any kind of power still overwhelmed me. She bent over the cradle to have a look at the baby, and then left.

I wondered what was going on in Inverness. Did my absence have any effect or did time simply stop until I returned? I've read Einstein, someone whom I admire very much, and knew about his theories of relativity. Einstein had also predicted time travel and hadn't he also put forth the theory of parallel universes? Or Universes that intersect it other at a point in time?

And that brought me back to Geillis. She'd never asked me where I came directly from, and I'd not asked her. Something about her, though, separated her from the women of the village, and the castle for that matter. Like me, something set her apart so distinctly from the others, and it wasn't just her beauty. Had she…?

Most importantly, I thought, what about Mac, does he know? Would time allow him to know that I was missing, and more importantly, where I'd gone? Would Mac come and look for me? Did that particular stone harbor a vortex that led to here and only here? I hoped so, I didn't want to stay in Scotland, especially now. The massacre at Culloden was drawing nearer, and none of the clans would be safe. No Gaelic, no tartans, no Scotland, nothing. I knew my history, I knew what was going to happen.

I sought refuge in my comfortable bed and slept until almost noon. I picked up the baby, and walked painfully around my bedroom, but I was determined to be up and walking just as soon as I could. I had promised myself that I would not spend six weeks lying on my back. I'd be careful, and it would be a good while before I could ride again, but it was important to regain my strength as soon as I could.

I found myself wishing fervently that Mac would somehow appear. As Jamie had reminded me, I wouldn't be in any shape to travel, nor, for a while, would the roads allow it. I had time until the battle of Culloden. The inhabitants of the castle seemed to be Jacobites, all of them. I could understand their wanting a free Scotland, and I wasn't so sure that trying to change history would do any good. To talk a Scot out of going to battle? Especially a Scot who believed he could successfully defend his homeland? Never, and I knew it.

I'm an Egyptologist, but that doesn't mean I know everything there is to know about the subject. I remembered, vaguely, the names of some of the Scottish traitors who went over to the English, but if I tried to tell anyone about them, would they believe me?

"Hey for Sandy Don, hey for Cockalorum, hey for Bobbin' John, and his Highland quorum." Who was still alive, who counted? How did you tell a traitor? How do you tell the Scots they are going to be outgunned and outnumbered. That they'll lose almost two thousand men? I wanted no part of this, I had to get away. Whoever I try to help, I know I will be suspected as a spy. I can only leave, and hopefully take Claire, and maybe Geillis, if I can find her.


	23. Tax Day

Since she had nursing experience, albeit as a combat nurse, Claire appointed herself my caretaker and no one at the castle seemed to mind. Though they had been very good to me, I think there was still some mistrust due to the fact that I had been married to George Campbell, son of the Campbell laird. I was very careful, but I still understood the fact that they were mistrustful of my loyalties. And since Claire was English, and the Campbell's' English allies, it seemed fitting.

It had been a week, and except for the occasional bleeding, I was feeling tired but better. And bored, very bored. I was expected to keep to my bed for six weeks, so the only walking I could do was around my bedroom and sometimes in the hall.

Claire turned out to be a blessing. Though we had obvious cultural differences, she was close to my age, though our experiences were vastly different. I was drawing information from here when I could, while trying to not reveal too much of my own.

I found out she had indeed used the "my coach overturned" reason for her presence and told her to be on her guard, for that was a flimsy excuse that wouldn't be believed.

"Well," she said, "What did you say?"

I sighed. This was going to involve talking about Georgie and I wasn't sure if I was ready. "I had a luxury you didn't," I told her, "I told him a half truth, as much as I could. I didn't know how I got there, and said no more. He was suspicious of me, but there was an undeniable attraction between us, and as it turned out, the truth didn't turn out to be necessary."

"You fell in love?" she asked gently.

"I fell in love, he fell in love, we fell in love and wound up being married on Boxing Day. I was around six weeks or so gone with child. By the third day after I was brought to their seat, Chateau La Mere, he was in my bed." I smiled ruefully, "We went at it like rabbits, and Callum was the result. He never really demanded an explanation from me, and as a result, he never learned the truth. I have to be honest, by that time I didn't really care if he knew or not. At first, I wanted to get back to Inverness so I could go home, but I found myself in love. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Georgie, though you can see how that worked out."

"You poor thing, such a short time together, but you have your child, your beautiful boy. We're both facing the same dilemma, though, we don't belong here and for the present, there's no way of getting away."

"I wonder what happens to my child if I go through the portal, will it affect him? I do want to go home, Claire. I don't live in Scotland or England, I'm an American. I don't want to be part of what's coming, and I don't want to be the one to tell any Scot any attempt at rebellion will fail."

"American? I might have guessed, your accent is barely noticeable. Maybe these months that you've been here have affected your speech."

I wanted to say, "But I don't have an accent" but didn't. Instead I asked a question I didn't want to but felt the subject needed to be broached. "Claire, did you happen to run into a British army officer named Captain Jonathan Randall?" She colored, and I guessed that she had. "Don't worry," I tried to reassure her, "I have had a run in or two with him also, but so far it's been no problem. I have my Campbell connections, so I'm safe from him, I think; but I don't know. I don't even know if Georgie's family is going to come after me, or if he might help them if asked. Are you worried about him finding you, Claire?"

"I don't know," she said slowly, "I feel safe from him, for the moment; but the situation here is so tenuous. They're Jacobites here, not Loyalists. I don't know where I stand here, I guess that remains to be seen."

Jamie chose that moment to appear. Since little Callum had no relations save for me, he had appointed himself unofficial uncle. "Ladies," he said and bowed, then went over to the cradle and looked him over before picking him up. My baby started crying, but I didn't care, except for the noise. He rocked and bounced him gently, then Callum ceased his crying. "Ah, ye poor wee bairn," he said though "poor" didn't exactly describe his prospects, "Dinna worry, your uncle Jamie will train ye to be a great warrior someday, and ye'll have all the lassies at your feet."

I didn't want my son to be a warrior, but I was wise enough to say nothing. I was impressed with the way the big Scot handled my infant. Jamie would probably make a good father, if he didn't get himself killed first, which was a likely possibility.

"How are ye feeling, Irina?" he asked, and I smiled. "I'd feel better if I wasn't so damn sore, but other than that I'm fine. He was worth all the fuss, though, he's such a good baby. He's going to look like his da, with his dark hair and brown eyes." My eyes started to mist over, something that came easily since Callum's birth.

"Well, I hear he's due to be baptized, and Colum and Letitia will be godparents. I didn't know ye were Catholic."

I was about to answer, but Mrs. Fitz suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Jamie, they're missing you in the stables. Give me the baby and get on with ye. You've things to do, and no time for playing with the bairn." She took the baby emphasize her point, "Go on now," she said, and since Mrs. Fitz' word was law, he bowed to us ladies, kissed me on the forehead and left the room. Mrs. Fitz beamed as she rocked Callum in her arms. "Aren't ye the sweetest thing then? It's been so long since we had a baby at Leoch, not to mention a baptism. It's too bad ye can't attend, but ye'll be at the celebration afterwards. Dinna worry, the Laird and Lady will take good care of him."

"Mrs. Fitz, has anyone heard anything about Geillis? I'm so worried about her. I was hoping she'd come back in time for Callum's baptism." I couldn't keep the anxiety out of my voice.

The look of disapproval on her face said it all, "I've not heard anything, not of a body, not of a woman, nothing of her." She clearly disliked Geillis, but so did many of the other women in the castle. "I mean, disappearing in the middle of the night like that, leaving her poor, sick husband with no one to tend to him." Well, Mrs. Fitz, that's not quite true, there were more than enough servants in the household that someone could have sent for the doctor. "And they're saying she tried to poison him, that she stole all the money in the house before she disappeared. "Fancy that."

She handed me back my baby, then turned to leave, and stopped herself. "Mrs. Beauchamp, Dougal says to pack and get ready to leave with him and his men tomorrow. They go to collect the taxes and you're to come with them." She squeezed her bulk through the door and left Claire and I to ourselves.

"Well, what is that about?" Claire asked, and I had a pretty good idea.

"It's clear he doesn't trust you, so he's taking you with them so he can keep an eye on you. Pretty silly if you ask me, to be so suspicious of you that he takes you with him. Keep a thick skin and don't let anything they do bother you. They'll talk about you to your face in Gaelic, and think they're having a laugh at your expense, but don't let them bother you. Make a friend or two if you can and keep them close. And be as diplomatic as you can, no matter how angry or hurt you feel. You can't get hurt by what you don't say." I grabbed her hand, I was sorry to see her go and angry at Dougal for taking her from me. "These men are so ridiculous and they don't even know it. All the more reason for us to return home, yes?"

She gave the baby a kiss and left me to myself. I wondered if Geillis had run. Surely, if she were in jail or had been executed, news of it would be buzzing around the castle. If she were still alive, I wish she would let me know. I'd never gotten the opportunity to ask the question I'd so wanted to ask. Had she, like Claire and myself, come through the stones. Maybe she had made it to Inverness; she was not impeded by recently giving birth as I was. It's not hard to steal a horse if you're clever, and if you're not afraid to travel by night you just might make it to where you want to go. Had Geillis done this?

The next morning, I was among the some of the members of the household seeing the men off. I was out of my nightgown and bundled in one of my nursing gowns, feeling a little unsteady on my feet, but not too badly. I'd bundled up Callum and held him closely, the morning air would not do him any harm. I enjoyed watching the men acting like idiots over the baby, stroking his hair, talking to him in Gaelic; he even received a blessing of his own from the priest.

I went over to Claire to reassure her. "Don't forget, Claire, ignore them unless they're being nice to you. You're a sweet person, a good person, and they're lucky to have you accompanying them. If they start to get to you, go off somewhere by yourself and swear like bloody hell until you feel better." She smiled at this, which was my intent. Somehow it was easier for me to adapt than it was for her. I hadn't found out half of what I wanted to know about her, but there hadn't been time. Maybe if not for the baby, things would have been easier. I kissed her cheek and she gave me a brave smile.

Laoghaire suddenly appeared next to me. "They're taking Jamie with them, why didn't they leave him here?" she pouted.

"I guess they need all the fighting men they have to protect what they collect. It's not like there won't be highwaymen, or worse, they'll have to look out for.

"But why didn't they leave him with Colum's household guard?"

I didn't have an answer to that myself. With Jamie and Claire gone, I had no friends left at Leoch, in spite of the fact that Laoghaire was trying to attach herself to me. I suppose having just given birth; she didn't see me as a rival. But it was Geillis I missed most of all, and there was no way I could go out and search for her right now. I had an infant to nurse and I was in no shape to even try to ride, let alone fend for myself on the road.

"Come on, Laoghaire," I sighed, "If I don't eat, Callum can't eat; maybe I can talk Mrs. Fitz into fixing us a pot of tea. Standing on my feet is making me tired and right now I'd give anything to sit for a while."

We watched them leave, Claire looking alone and forlorn. I should have been there for her, I don't speak Gaelic, but I can handle men. I felt protective of Clair, maybe because we'd both been caught by the stones.

Callum started fussing and I went to ask Mrs. Fitz for some breakfast. It was going to be too long before they returned.


	24. Unexpected, Unwelcome News

I missed Claire very badly. Just as I had never felt comfortable amongst the ladies of Chateau La Mere, I didn't fit in with the ladies of Castle Leoch, either.

And what was worse, Laoghaire had attached herself to me. I don't know why, I was polite to her, but I certainly wasn't encouraging. I suspected it was because Jamie and I were friends and she saw me as a bridge to his attentions. I was sure she was picturing herself presiding over a brood of red haired boys, and maybe a girl or two at his ancestral home of Lallybroch.

I wanted to tell her to forget it. If such a match were even to be considered, something would have to done about the price on Jamie's head, as well as the fact that he hadn't much of a fortune, a fact that a father would take into consideration. And, to be blunt, she wasn't much in the brains department and was the type that a man would tire of quickly, unless he married strictly for a broodmare and housekeeper.

And, like the other girls, she had a bad case of baby-itis. There was always a girl who was willing to hold Callum, to watch him for a little while. In your teens babies seem like something magical, until you actually had one and realized how much work it was.

Callum, though, had approached his three-month mark, and had entered the "magic baby" stage. He was a happy, gurgling, taking an interest in what was going on around him. And, fortunately, he wasn't prone to much crying, unless he needed something—dry nappies, my breast, someone to entertain him. And he now had a head of curly dark hair, and the dark brown eyes of his father. Like Georgie, my son would grow up to be a heart breaker.

I began to have uneasy dreams at night. I had felt safe and protected when Jamie brought me here, but now I was not so sure. No one really knew who I was, but even a relatively isolated keep like Leoch was not protected totally from the outside world. I was careful not to be seen about too often, but now that I was feeling better I was restless. I was almost ready to start riding again, and had started taking walks, being careful to leave Baby in someone's care. As a matter of precaution, I did not want him to be seen with me.

I was conspicuous and I knew it. Tall, unusual color of green eyes, and pale yellow hair. If someone asked a stranger about me, they'd knew who they were speaking of.

The Campbell lairds would be concerned, and if I had to confront them, I would tell them why I left. Whether I would be believed would be another matter. Colin's father was a sweet man, a kind man, and I was sure my story would fall on skeptical ears.

And even worse, Colin was friends with Black Jack Randall. If he asked, I am sure that Randall would oblige him by having the troops have eyes and ears for any news of me. And if they did find me, I would leave with them before I would cause any trouble for the McKenzies who had been so kind and taken such good care of me. I wouldn't, however, settle for being cooperative, one way or the other I would try to escape.

I broached the subject to Colum. "Just how is it that they would come to Leoch looking for me?" This seemed to be a little backwater place that the British didn't bother much with. Of course, that made it a good place for Jacobite intrigue. Colum wasn't opposed to the idea of Scottish independence, but he seemed to have a good grasp on the situation. A hothead like Dougal was all for it, but Colum seemed to realize the rebels would be out gunned and out manned. His condition made him long for a quiet life, I think, and if he were driven from his home, he wouldn't survive for long.

One day we received word that the party that had set out would soon be returning. Mrs. Fitz began preparations for the reception, cooking large amounts of food. They would be tired and hungry when they got home, thinking first of a meal, then of bed if they had that luxury. The accountants would be busy over the next few weeks, tallying what had been brought in.

I was eager to talk to Clair and find out how it had gone for her. I had a good ear for languages and if I was surrounded by one, could pick up enough to understand what was going on, and communicate a little. Clair spoke French, but it wouldn't help her out with Gaelic. Unlike me, she was a lady, assertive when she could be, but frankly wasn't an aggressive bitch like me. There is a lot of difference between 2014 and 1945. She would have been born in 1918, and had an entirely different upbringing, not to mention experience.

One evening, the party came trickling in. Men's and horses' heads were drooping from fatigue, but they seemed to perk up somewhat now that they were home. Grooms took reins from weary men's hands and led them to the stable. They filed into common kitchens, eager for food, ale, or whisky, looking forward to their beds.

Jamie greeted me with a hearty kiss and a smack on the ass. "Where's the bairn?" he demanded and I answered,

"In bed, where he belongs, and don't even think about waking him. You can see him tomorrow, and you'll be surprised at how he's changed."

He smiled and headed to the kitchens, his appetite still a young man's.

Clair rode towards the end with Ned Gowan. They dismounted from their horses, Claire rubbing her rear. Though she could ride after a fashion, the trip had not yet accustomed her to spending long hours in the saddle. I was glad that my livelihood required a strong physique and endurance. I liked being active and hopefully it would help me out when I had a toddler to chase around.

"Irina!" she said, and I held out my arms to hug her. "Oh, so much has happened that I want to tell you about, you can't begin to imagine. But I need to eat, I'm so hungry, we rode straight through the night when Dougal realized we were so close to home. I'm surprised the horses survived it, I'm surprised I survived, too."

"So," I asked as we headed towards the kitchen, "How did the men treat you? Were they polite? Or did they behave as the contemptuous hard headed jerks they like to be when it comes to strangers?"

"Oh," she said casually, "It was definitely touch and go for a while, but after I married Jamie it seemed to break the ice."

"What?" I stopped her dead in her tracks, "What did I hear you say, you married Jamie? What possessed you to do such a fool hardy thing as that?"

"Why was it fool hardy? Captain Randall was after me, was going to take me into custody and question me. Dougal said if I married someone Scottish it would protect me. I'm no longer an English citizen, but a Scottish one." She looked at me, not kindly, "Irina, I do believe you're jealous."

I turned on her, not caring if I was about to hurt her feelings. "Tell me, Claire, on your wedding night, since I assume the marriage had to be consummated to be legal, did he by chance tell you he was a virgin?"

"Well, yes," she stuttered, unsure of herself now, "He did. And for a virgin he was very satisfactory in bed," she said triumphantly.

"Well, I can assure you he wasn't. I fucked him twice before you came to Leoch. He told me he was a virgin, too. I'm beginning to wonder how many women he's used that line on. Believe me, Claire, I've every reason to suspect he was not virgin when he lay with me."

No woman likes to hear her man has been with someone else, especially with someone that she knows. My congress with Jamie came about because I'd lost my husband and my home, and I was feeling scared and insecure. We'd done it once or twice, and then I had him out of my system. He had, after all, looked after me while I lived at the Chateau, and he helped me escape and asked nothing for it.

I wonder if Claire really and truly knew what she'd done. Though to be twenty-three in 1744 was quite different than in, say, 2014 or 1945, he still had a lot of maturing to do. He should have known better than to marry someone while he had a price on his head. And was Claire equipped to deal with the PTSD he must surely be suffering due to his flogging? He'd told me quite a bit about himself, but I'm sure he left more out.

What had Dougal been thinking? Sure, Jamie was young and handsome, and if he ever could claim it, Lallybroch would yield a nice, though not rich, income for him. He was more mature than a twenty-three-year-old from my century would be, but he was not yet truly an adult, though that would come with time. I would never have considered Jamie as any more than a fling, but I was seeing a look in Claire's eyes that bothered me.

"Claire, didn't you tell me you were married?" The thought suddenly came to me, "Did Dougal know, does Jamie know? He has a right to. Technically you are married to two men. One from the time where you legitimately belong, one who's here now in the eighteenth century. He deserves to know, your new husband, if it weren't for the centuries separating you, you'd be committing adultery, now wouldn't you?"

"How can you say this to me?" she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "He did it to protect me."

"And why did you do it? You already made up a story about how they found you. Surely it would have been easy enough to make up a story about a husband, too." I grabbed her wrist as she tried to strike at me. "You tell Jamie the truth, Claire, or I'll tell him, about both of us. I'm tired of pretending to be someone I'm not—oh wait, I am telling the truth. I married the son of the Laird of Chateau La Mere, and I've born his child, that's the truth. Jamie deserves to know who you really are, it's time you stopped living a lie. And do you think so little of your real husband that you can do this to him?"

She cast me a look of fear and hatred, and I knew I had lost a friend, but I was beyond caring. Instead of thinking about this, I went to find Jamie.

He was talking and eating with some of the other men, but I grabbed his arm and led him off, causing him to drop his dishes. When we were well away I let go of his arm and slapped him as hard as I could.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I screamed at him, heedless that someone might hear. "What do you know about her, anyway? And what right do you have to marry when there's a price on your head? You don't think that will affect her, put her in harm's way if the English get hold of her and know who she is?"

Then he said the most stupid thing possible. "What's the matter, are ye jealous?"

"Which of the two of us is in possession of a small fortune? The only thing I live in fear of is Colin Campbell finding me and forcing me to return. What do you think will happen if the British capture you? And, by the way," I added, "I hear you came to your marriage bed a virgin. Sounds like you're starting off married life with a lie."

"So what d'ye expect me to do?" The look he was giving me was definitely not friendly.

"You and Clair have things to put to right with each other. You knew there was something different about me when met me, and you might have noticed the same thing about her. You've things to say to each other that you can't tell a priest. If you're going to begin a marriage, you need to begin it with honesty."

"Like you and young Campbell?" he thought he had me here but he was wrong.

"There were a lot of things I should have told him, instead of the half-truths I fed him. But I paid for that, now didn't I? My husband was murdered and left me a widow with a young son. But I intend to make it right, Jamie, but you and Claire have to talk before I tell you the truth about me. I'm not your wife, you're not my husband. Tell her the truth, tonight."

I stalked off, not willing to talk to him, or Claire anymore. I needed to get to Inverness as soon as I could. This had gone on long enough, and I wanted to go home.


	25. Truth and Consequences

I fully intended to tell Jamie about Claire if she didn't, but it wouldn't be fair if I didn't give her a chance. I didn't put much faith in her intentions and knew that eventually I would have to tell Jamie, but there was a part of me that wanted to wait and see if she did. I knew she was heady over her new marriage, but at some point she would have to tell him the truth. And maybe, just maybe, she would tell him what would happen on Culloden Moor.

And why hadn't I told Georgie? Honestly I didn't know. I'd been swept up into the household, his family, and his bed so quickly that my head still spun. If Claire thought she was in love with Jamie—if she was—it was nothing compared to what Georgie and I had felt for each other. I'll swear that the first time he looked at me I was lost, I'd been caught up in a whirlwind that spun me along so fast that I seemed to lose control. We were so caught up, so obsessed with each other that where and when I came from no longer mattered.

By the third day of our acquaintance, he'd practically dragged me into bed and raped me. But it had been no rape and we both knew. And when we found out I was going to have a baby, all we could think of was the life we had in front of us.

I'd met him in the fall, and by December I was pregnant. Then I had the dream and knew that I was going to lose him.

Not like Claire and Jamie at all—and most importantly, I wasn't married like she had been. I especially wasn't a married Catholic. Somehow or another, Jamie must learn the truth, what they did with it afterwards wasn't my affair.

I started to wander up the stairs to my room. Rose, the daughter of one of the members of the household was watching Callum. Though only fifteen, she was very responsible and I felt more comfortable leaving him with her than any of the other girls. She had a way with babies, and would make a good mum. She'd been with her sweetheart for a year, and I was sure that within a year or so, she'd be married and starting a family of her own.

I could see the doorway of my room, but something seemed wrong. I always instructed the girls to close and latch the door, just for safety's sake, but the door was slightly open and gave way with a gentle push.

The room was dark, except for a candle by Callum's cradle. It was silent as a tomb in the Valley of the Kings and Rose was nowhere in sight. I drew my knife from my bodice and went over to check on my son, only to find his cradle empty.

"Rose!" I called, panic rising in my voice, and someone put a hand over my mouth.

"Shh, your son is safe, I sent her to the kitchens. I'm going to remove my hand now, don't scream."

I turned around to see the face of Geillis Duncan. "Geillie," I said, keeping my voice deliberately down, "What are you doing here? Where have you been? I've been so worried " We hugged, so glad to see each other, despite the fact that she had literally disappeared, leaving me no word or clue.

"Keep your voice low," she said, "It wouldn't do for anyone to know I was here. When I left I took all the coin and valuables from the house, but only two gowns so no one would recognize me by my clothes. I took the wagon, then traded it for an older, smaller one, and I've been traveling around, working as a healer, or a midwife when the need arose. I've stayed far enough away, yet close enough so that I could get news of you when I needed it. I was happy to hear that your delivered your son without complications—I wanted to come and see you but didn't dare."

I was pleased to see her looking so good, though no longer like the wife of a prosperous husband. Her dress was plain, though well-made and of good material. She wore her golden hair, hair so like mine, in a chignon covered with a plain cap. She was as knowledgeable as any doctor in the countryside, and perhaps was possessed of more sense. And she had chosen a good disguise, one that would probably serve her well and keep her safe.

She hesitated, "I didn't want to tell you this until I was sure, but I think Colin Campbell is trying to find you, and Captain Jack Randall is helping him. I was called on a couple of times to treat soldiers because their medic was ill. There was one who was in a great deal of pain, so I gave him opium, and he began to talk about a Russian girl with long golden hair that they were trying to find. 'She looks like you,' he said, 'She's supposed to be a beauty, and Lord Campbell wants to find her and bring her back home to keep her safe.' Sound familiar?"

I was about to answer when Rose appeared at the door, holding Callum carefully in her arms. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but Miss Gross asked for a glass of water, but I couldn't carry it and Callum." She looked truly apologetic.

I took my baby from her, "That's all right, I'm sure Miss Gross understands. She's a very old friend of mine, come to visit and meet my new son. You may go now Rose, and thank you." Rose curtsied and made a hurried exit.

"Miss Gross?" I looked at her in disbelief.

Geillie laughed, the first time since she had come to me. "Haven't you heard that song, "Allison Gross, she must be, the ugliest witch in the North Country?"

"No, I haven't, and that might have been a good choice, because ugly is definitely what you are not. But Geillis, what do you suggest I do? How long ago did you run into the English army? Were they friendly to you? Were Randall and Colin Campbell with them?"

"Well, it's been a while, but still not that long ago. And yes, they were there, Randall could barely bring himself to be polite, but Colin Campbell was charm itself. He said I reminded him of someone he knew—and it didn't take much for me to guess who. I don't know if they'll consider Leoch as a place to look—the laird and his subjects are Catholic, and since you have no known sympathies with the Jacobites, they could assume that you wouldn't have taken or been given refuge here. It all depends their strategy."

"Geillis," I was taking a risk now, "I need to get to Inverness, but I can't do it alone, I couldn't do it on horseback with the baby. You have a wagon, we both have money, and between the two of us, I bet we could charm any English soldier who came our way. We could stay at inns at night, and avoid bad weather, even purchase another horse if we need to. I know I can't predict if Colin will find us, but the villagers ought to have news. Colin and his pale blond hair and height is hard to miss, and they've no love for the Campbells." I turned and looked at her, knowing that desperation shone in my eyes, "Will you help me?"

She hugged me tightly, "That's what I'm here to do. I listened to your advice and avoided being caught. It may take a week before we can leave, so I'll have to find somewhere to hide during the day. I know you'd let me stay here, but that may not be the best course of action. Yes, I'll get you out of here if I can—it will be our secret."

"Where can you hide, Geilie, where no one will recognize who you were. Your husband died, and they'd like nothing better than to string you up. You can't be careless, that could put both of us at risk."

"Oh, I have a friend in the next village who didn't like her husband any better than I liked mine. You'd be surprised at the number of sudden deaths of husbands that might occur around here. She was forced to marry hers, I married mine for the status and money. I have a horse hidden in her stables so I can ride back and forth. Just sit tight and don't worry, I'll keep in touch. I know you won't say anything about seeing me, but what about the maid?"

"She'll say nothing. I pay her to watch Callum so I can get away. She might say something about my friend 'Miss Gross', but it won't be much. She doesn't chatter like some girls her age."

We hugged again, and I realized how much I'd missed her. Claire wasn't nearly as satisfactory a companion as Geillis. I wanted to tell her about Claire and her coming through the stones, but I hadn't even told her about me. This got me thinking, how much did I really know about her? There was something about her that did not fit with eighteenth century Scotland, but that could have been my own situation talking. It didn't matter, I decided, Geillis seemed determined to help me, and I had no doubt that she would do her best.

I went upstairs to see Colum, carrying my baby with me. He held out his arms and took Callum from me, dandling him on his knee, speaking to him in the universal language that we all use with babies. I had become fairly adept in it myself.

"Colum, I've heard some disturbing news," might as well get to the point, I thought.

"Oh, and what's that lass? What could be making your mummy upset?" he said to Callum while bouncing him on his knee.

"Colin Campbell is rumored to be on the road, and my guess is he's looking for me."

"Where did you hear this?" what he heard must have upset him, for he squeezed Callum a little too tightly and he began to wail in protest. "Sorry, my poor wee bairn," he said to him and with the skill of fatherhood began to soothe him.

"I've been hearing some gossip," I lied, though it was only half a lie, really, "He's not one for being inconspicuous, he favors intimidation and probably hopes that I hear that he's looking for me, I can't think of any other reason for him to be here."

"Nor can I," Colum handed Baby back to me, "Are you sure of this?"

"As sure as I can be without seeing him with my own eyes. I want to keep him away from here, the Campbells are allies with the English and he could force my hand by threatening you. If does take me, I fear for Callum's safety. He'll want a child of his own to inherit the lairdship, not Georgie's heir, and I'm sure I'm the one he wants to bear it. He'll try to force me to marry him, and the only way out I can see is to get out of here any way I can. You've been good to me, I don't want to be the cause of trouble for you."

"Well, let's see if he really is out there. I can put some men on the road and disguise them as a hunting party. I'll cast a wide net and see if it brings in any fish. In the meantime, let's not have you out alone. I can spare of couple of men for when you're riding or just out and about." He reached out and fingered a lock of my blond hair, "You have lovely hair, lass, but maybe it would be best to cover it when you're not in the safety of the castle."

"Is there anyone here who would act as a spy for Colin or the English?" I hated to ask it, but I had to hear his answer.

He sighed, "Yes, that's always possible, so I have to consider it. It wouldn't be just for you, but as long as the possibility of war exists, there might always be an English sympathizer." He reached over and patted my knee, "Don't you worry now lass, I keep my eyes open, and there are ways to escape an unwanted pursuer that even some in Leoch don't know about. We'll get you to Inverness in safety, you have my word."


End file.
